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Hiotographic 
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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


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Couverture  endommagie 


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10X 

t4X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

ilaire 
IS  ddtails 
ques  du 
nt  r.iodifier 
Kiger  une 
ie  filmage 


d/ 
qu6es 


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taire 


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Mills  Memorial  Library 
McMastar  University 


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empreinte. 

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dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  Ie 
cas:  Ie  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  Ie 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

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film6s  d  des  taux  de  rdduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  Ie  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
d9  ('angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  Ie  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


I  by  errata 
med  to 

nent 

,  une  pelure, 
fapon  d 

8. 


32X 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


i2mo.       Paper,   50 


The  Trespasser. 

cents;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"Interest,  pith,  force,  and  charm  -Mr.  Parker's  story 
possesses  all  thesis  qualities.  .  .  .  Almost  bare  of  syn- 
thetical decoration,  his  paragraphs  are  stirring  because 
they  are  real.  We  read  at  times-  as  we  have  read  the 
great  masters  of  romHnce— breathlessly.  .  .  .  In  Mr.  Parker 
we  feel  that  a  prophet  has  arisen,  and  we  hope  for  him 
great  and  greater  years  " —  The  Critic. 

"  Gilbert  Parker  writes  a  strong  novel,  but  thus  far  this 
is  his  masterpiece.  ...  It  is  one  of  the  great  novels  of  the 
year," — Boston  Adzertiser. 

"...  A  picturesque,  imaginative  study." — Han  Fran- 
cisco Chronicle. 

"  '  The  Trespasser '  tells  a  thoroughly  interesting  story 
with  great  spirit  and  admirable  literary  skill.  The  charac- 
ter drawing  is  notably  clever." — Boston  Saturday  Even- 
ing Gazette. 

The    Translation    of    a   Savage. 

i2mo.     Flexible  cloth,  75  cents. 

"A  gracefully  and  effectively  written  and  very  clever 
story  by  a  very  clever  writer." — New  York  Commercial 
Advertiser. 

"  Unique  in  plot  and  subject,  and  holds  the  interest 
from  the  first  page  to  the  last  " — Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  A  story  of  remarkable  interest,  originality,  and  in- 
genuity in  construction," — Boston  Home  yournal. 


New  York :  D.  Applkton  &  Co.,  7a  Fifth  Avenue. 


THE 


TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD 


BY 

GILBERT   PARKER 

AUTHOR   OF 

THE    TRESPASSER,    THE   TRANSLATION    OF   A   SAVAGE, 
PIERRE    AND    HIS    PEOPLE,    ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1894 


COPTRIQHT,   1894, 

By  D.   APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


DEDICATION. 


Mr  DEAR  Fa  thee: 

Once  many  years  ago,  in  a  kind  of  despair^  you  were 
impelled  to  say  that  I  would  never  be  anything  but  "  a  ras- 
cally laivyer."  Thia,  it  may  be,  sat  upon  your  conscience, 
fo^  later  you  turned  me  gravely  towards  Paley  and  the 
I'hirty-nine  Articles  ;  and  yet  I  knoiv  that  in  your  soldier^s 
heart  you  really  pictured  me.  how  unavailingly,  in  scarlet  and 
pipe-clay,  and  with  active  sabre,  like  yourself  in  youth  and 
manhood.  In  all  1  disappointed  you,  for  I  never  had  a  brief 
or  a  parish,  and  it  was  another  son  of  yours  who  carried  on 
your  military  hopes.  But  as  some  faint  apology — I  almost  dare 
hope,  some  recompense — for  what  must  have  seemed  wilfulness, 
I  send  you  now  this  story  of  a  British  soldier  and  his  "  dear 
maid " ;  which  has  for  its  background  the  old  city  of  Quebec, 
whose  high  ramparts  you  walked  first  sixty  years  ago,  and  for 
its  setting  the  beginning  of  those  fightings,  which,  as  I  have 
heard  you  say,  "through  God^s  providence  and  James  Wolfe 
gave  England  her  best  possession." 

You  will,  I  feel  sure,  quarrel  with  the  fashion  of  my  cam- 
paigns and  be  troubled  by  my  anachronisms ;  but  I  beg  you  to 
remember  that  long  ago  you  gave  my  young  mind  much  distress, 
when  you  told  that  wonderful  story,  how  you,  one  man,  "sur- 
rounded "  a  dozen  enemies,  and  drove  them  prisoners  to  head- 

(iii) 


IV 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


quarters.  "  Surrounded  "  may  have  been  mere  lick  of  precision, 
but  it  serves  my  turn  noiv,  as  you  see.  You  once  were — and  I 
am  precise  here — a  gallant  swordsman :  there  are  legends  yet  of 
your  doings  with  a  crack  Dublin  bully.  Well,  in  the  last  chap- 
ter of  this  tale  you  shall  find  a  duel  which  may  recall  those  early 
days  of  this  century,  when  your  blood  was  hot  and  your  hand 
ready.  You  would  be  distrustful  of  the  details  of  this  scene  did 
I  not  tell  you  that  though  the  voice  is  JacoVs  the  hand  is  an- 
other's. Swordsman  are  not  now  so  many,  in  the  Army  or  out  of 
it,  that  among  them  Mr.  Walter  Herries  Pollock's  name  will 
have  escaped  you;  so,  if  you  quarrel,  let  it  be  with  Esau; 
though,  having  good  reason  to  be  grateful  to  him,  that  would 
cause  me  regret. 

My  dear  father,  you  are  travelling  midway  between  eighty 
and  ninety  years  with  great  health  and  cheerfulness ;  it  is  my 
hope  you  may  top  the  arch  of  your  good  and  honourable  life 
with  a  century  keystone. 

Believe  me,  sir. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Gilbert  Parker. 


A   NOTE. 


The  actors  in  this  little  drama  played  their  parts, 
on  the  big  stage  of  a  new  continent,  two  hundred 
years  ago.  Despots  sat  upon  the  thrones  of  France 
and  England,  and  their  representatives  on  the  Hud- 
son and  the  St.  Lawrence  were  despots  too,  with 
greater  opportunity  and  to  better  ends.  In  Canada, 
Frontenac  quarrelled  with  his  Intendant  and  his 
Council,  set  a  stern  hand  upon  the  Church  when 
she  crossed  with  his  purposes,  cajoled,  treated  with, 
and  fought  the  Indians  by  turn,  and  cherished  a 
running  quarrel  with  the  English  Governor  of  New 
York.  They  were  striving  for  the  friendship  of  the 
Iroquois  c  -  the  one  hand,  and  for  the  trade  of  the 
Great  West  on  the  other.  The  French,  under  such 
men  as  La  Salle,  had  pushed  their  trading  posts  west 
ward  to  the  great  lakes  and  beyond  the  Missouri,  and 
north  to  the  shores  of  Hudson's  Bay.    They  traded 

(V) 


VI 


TUE  TKAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


and  fought  and  revelled,  hot  with  the  spirit  of  ud ven- 
ture, the  best  of  pioneers  and  the  worst  of  colonists. 
Tardily,  upon  their  trail,  came  the  English  and  the 
Dutch,  slow  to  acquire  but  strong  to  hold ;  not  so 
rash  in  adventure,  nor  so  adroit  in  intrigue ;  as  fond 
of  fighting,  but  with  less  of  the  gift  of  the  woods,  and 
much  more  the  faculty  for  government.  There  was 
little  interchange  of  friendliness  and  trade  between 
the  rival  colonists ;  and  Frenchmen  were  as  rare  on 
Manhattan  Island  as  Englishmen  on  the  heights  of 

Quebec — except  as  prisoners. 

G.  P. 


CONTENTS. 


EPOCH  THE  FIRST. 

CHAPTER 

I.— An  Envoy  Extraordinary  . 

II.— The  Threat  of  a  Renegade 
III.— The  Face  at  the  Window. 
IV.— The  Uplifting  of  the  Swords 

V. — The  Fruits  of  t'ie  Law    . 
VI.— The  Kidnapping  . 


PAOB 

1 

13 
27 
37 
47 
55 


EPOCH  THE  SECOND. 

VII. — Friends  in  Council     .       ^ 
VIII. — As  SEEN  through  A  Glass  Darkly 
IX. — To  THE  Porch  of  the  World 
X.— Qui  Vive!     .... 
XI. — With  the  Strange  People 
XII. — Out  of  the  Net  . 

EPOCH  THE  THIRD 

Xlir. — "  As  Water  unto  Wine  "   . 
XIV. — In  which  the  Hunters  are  Out 
XV. — In  the  Matter  of  Bucklaw 
XVI. — In  the  Treasure  House     . 
XVII.— The  Gift  of  a  Captive     . 
XVIII. — Maiden  no  more  . 

(vii) 


69 
93 
104 
111 
125 
135 


150 
165 
172 
188 
201 
208 


Vlll 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWOKI). 


El'OCII   THE  EOUUTH. 

CHAPTER  VAOM 
XIX.— WlIKH     TKLLS    OF    A     BrOTHER's    BlOOD   CRYINO 

FROM  TiiK  Ground    ,        ^       .        .        ,       .  217 

XX.— A  Trap  is  Set 280 

XXI.— An  Untoward  Messenger 244 

XXII.— From  Tiuer's  Claw  to  Lion's  Mouth      .       ,  255 

XXII I. —At  the  Gates  of  Misfortune  ....  259 

XXIV.— In  wiuuH  the  Sword  is  Sheathed    .        .       .  2G4 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE   SWORD. 


(ffpocl)  tlic  i:ir0t. 


CHAPTER  I. 


AN   ENVOY   EXTRAORDINARY. 


One  summer  afternoon  a  tall,  good-looking  strip- 
ling stopped  in  the  midst  of  the  town  of  New  York, 
and  asked  his  way  to  the  governor's  house.  He  at- 
tracted not  a  little  attention,  and  created  as  much 
astonishment  when  he  came  into  the  presence  of  the 
governor.  He  had  been  announced  as  an  envoy  from 
Quebec.  "  Some  new  insolence  of  the  County  Fron- 
tenac ! "  cried  old  Richard  Nicholls,  bringing  his  fist 
down  on  the  table.  For  a  few  minutes  he  talked  with 
his  chamber-fellow,  then,  "  Show  the  genileman  in," 
he  said. 

In  the  room  without,  the  envoy  from  Quebec  had 

stood  flicking  the  dust  from  his  leggings  with  a  scarf. 

(1) 


2 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


Ho  was  not  more  than  eighteen,  his  face  had  scarcely 
an  inkling  of  moustache,  but  he  had  an  easy  upright 
carriage,  with  an  air  of  self-possession,  the  keenest  of 
grey  eyes,  a  strong  pair  of  shoulders,  a  look  of  daring 
about  his  rather  large  mouth,  which  lent  him  a  man- 
liness well  warranting  his  present  service.  He  had 
been  left  alone,  and  the  first  thing  he  had  done  was  to 
turn  on  his  heel  and  examine  the  place  swiftly.  This 
he  seemed  to  do  mechanically,  not  as  one  forecasting 
danger,  not  as  a  spy.  In  the  curve  of  his  lips,  in  an 
occasional  droo:-)  of  his  eyelids,  there  was  a  suggestion 
of  humour ;  less  often  a  quality  of  the  young  than  of 
the  old.  For  even  in  the  late  seventeenth  century, 
youth  took  itself  seriously  at  times. 

Presently,  as  he  stood  looking  at  the  sunshine 
through  the  open  door,  a  young  giri  came  into  the 
lane  of  light,  waved  her  hand,  with  a  little  laugh,  to 
some  one  in  the  distance,  and  stepped  inside.  At  first 
she  did  not  see  him.  Her  glances  were  still  cast  back 
the  way  she  had  come.  The  young  man  could  not  fol- 
low her  glance,  nor  was  he  anything  curious.  Young 
as  he  was,  he  could  enjoy  a  fine  picture.  There  was  a 
pretty  demureness  in  the  girPs  manner,  a  warm  pi- 
quancy in  the  turn  of  the  neck,  and  a  delicacy  in  her 


AN  ENVOY  EXTRAORDINARY. 


8 


gestures,  which  to  him,  fresh  from  hard  hours  in  the 
woods,  was  part  of  some  delightful  Arcadie — though 
Arcadie  was  more  in  his  veins  than  of  his  knowledge. 
For  the  young  seigneur  of  New  France  spent  far  more 
hours  with  his  gun  than  with  his  Latin,  and  knew  his 
bush-ranging  vassal  better  than  his  tutor ;  and  this 
one  was  too  complete  a  type  of  his  order  to  reverse 
its  record.  He  did  not  look  to  his  scunty  lace,  or 
set  himself  seemingly  ;  he  did  but  stop  flicking  the 
scarf  held  loose  in  his  fingers,  his  foot  still  on  the 
bench.  A  smile  played  at  his  lips,  and  his  eyes  had  a 
gleam  of  raillery.  He  heard  the  girl  say  in  a  soft, 
quaint  voice,  just  as  she  turned  towards  him,  "  Foolish 
boy  ! "  By  this  he  knew  that  the  pretty  picture  had 
for  its  inspiration  one  of  his  own  sex. 

She  faced  him,  and  gave  a  little  cry  of  surprise. 
Then  their  eyes  met.  Immediately  he  made  the  most 
elaborate  bow  of  all  his  life,  and  she  swept  a  grace- 
ful courtesy.  Her  face  was  slightly  flushed  that  this 
stranger  should  have  seen,  but  he  carried  such  an 
open,  cordial  look  that  she  paused,  instead  of  hurry- 
ing into  the  governor's  room,  as  she  had  seemed  in- 
clined to  do.  In  the  act  the  string  of  her  hat,  slung 
over  her  arm,  came  loose,  and  the  hat  fell  to  the  floor. 


*  THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWOED 

J-tantl,  he  picked  i.„p,„, 

had  spoken  a  word      u  Neither 

"•^-  --.e  a:\:r  trr  r  ^^  *^" 

"-=-ht  on  the  instant  ho.  drol.t  '   "'  '""^ 

-'^  ^'-aid  to  hi.  na^e,;   r"  '   r ''^^ '"^''^''• 
the  governor?    yo„  „„     i'      '^°"'"'^«  """ne  to  visit 
.      ,         ""'  "  ^'■«''«i"nan,  are  you  „ot  v " 
lo  th,s  ,n  slow  and  carefm  English  "  I  -,  k 
plied  ;  "  I  havp  ^«™     ,  ° '^"'     "s,"  he  re- 

"Do  not  go  yet,"  he  said.    "Tell  m« 
governor's  daugh  ter  ?  "  '  """^  ^°"  *''« 

She  paused,  her  hand  at  the  door     «  Oh  n    »  , 

--ered;  then,  in  a  sprightly  way-  are 

ernor's  son  ? "  "^      ^^®  ^^"  a  gov- 

"  I  wish  I  were,"  he  sairl  «  f      .1 

-'^  intendant.  an     he^r   'ut  ;.  Tl ''''"'  ''  ' 
council."  ^  '  ^'""^  P''™'  in  the 

MVhat  is  an  intendant?"  she  asked  "«.n^     .     • 
Nick  Perrot  ?  "  "^Kea,    and  who  is 

"^^■-•'-intendantisan,anwhon.KingUuis 


AN  ENVOY  EXTRAORDINARY. 


appoints  to  worry  the  governor  and  the  gentlemen  of 
Canada,  and  to  interrupt  the  trade.  Nicolas  Perrot 
is  a  fine  fellow  and  a  great  coureiir  de  bois^  and  helps 
to  get  the  governor  out  of  troubles  to-day,  the  in- 
tendant  to-morrow.  He  is  a  splendid  fighter.  Perrot 
is  my  friend." 

He  said  this,  not  with  an  air  of  boasting,  but  with 
a  youthful  and  enthusiastic  pride,  which  was  relieved 
by  the  twinkle  in  his  eves  and  his  frank  manner. 

"  Who  brought  you  here  ? "  she  asked  demurely. 
"  Are  they  inside  with  the  governor  ?  " 

He  saw  the  raillery;  though  indeed,  it  was  nat- 
ural to  suppose  that  he  had  no  business  with  the 
governor,  but  had  merely  come  with  some  one.  The 
question  was  not  flattering.  His  hand" went  up  to  his 
chin  a  little  awkwardly.  She  noted  how  large  yet 
how  well-shaped  it  was,  or,  rather,  she  remembered 
afterwards.  Then  it  dropped  upon  the  hilt  of  the 
rapier  he  wore,  and  he  answered  with  good  self-pos- 
session, though  a  little  hot  spot  showed  on  his  cheek  : 
"The  governor  must  have  other  guests  who  are  no 
men  of  mine;  for  he  keeps  an  envoy  from  Count 
Frontenac  long  in  his  anteroom." 

The   girl   became   very  youthful    indeed,  and  a 


6 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


m 

■ 


merry  light  danced  in  her  eyes  and  warmed  her 
clieek.  She  came  a  step  nearer.  "It  is  not  so? 
You  do  not  come  from  Count  Frontenac — all  alone, 
do  you  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  after  I  have  told  the  governor,"  he 
answered,  pleased  and  amused. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  hear  when  the  governor  hears,"  she 
answered,  with  a  soft  quaintness,  and  then  vanished 
into  the  governor's  chamber.  She  had  scarce  entered 
when  the  door  opened  again,  and  the  servant,  a  Scots- 
man, came  out  to  ^ay  that  his  excellency  would  re- 
ceive  him.  He  went  briskly  forward,  but  presently 
paused.  A  sudden  sense  of  shyness  possessed  him. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  been  ushered  into 
viceregal  presence,  but  his  was  an  odd  position.  He 
was  in  a  strange  land,  charged  with  an  embassy, 
which  accident  had  thrust  upon  him.  Then,  too,  the 
presence  of  the  girl  had  withdrawn  him  for  an  instant 
from  the  imminence  of  his  duty.  His  youth  came 
out  of  him,  and  in  the  pause  one  could  fairly  see  him 
turn  into  man. 

He  had  not  the  dark  complexion  of  so  many  of  his 
race,  but  was  rather  Saxon  in  face,  with  rich,  curling, 
brown   hair.     Even   in   that  brave  time  one  might 


AN  ENVOY  EXTRAORDINARY. 


safely  have  bespoken  for  him  a  large  career.  And 
even  while  the  Scotsman  in  the  doorway  eyed  him 
with  distant  deprecation, — as  he  eyed  all  Frenchmen, 
good  and  bad,  ugly  or  handsome, — he  put  off  his  hesi- 
tation and  entered  the  governor's  chamber.  Colonel 
Nicholls  came  forward  to  greet  him,  and  then  sud- 
denly stopped,  astonished.  Then  he  wheeled  upon 
tlie  girl.  "Jessica,  you  madcap!''  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

She  was  leaning  against  a  tall  chair,  both  hands 
grasping  the  back  of  it,  her  chin  just  level  with  the 
top.  She  had  told  the  governor  that  Count  Fronte- 
nac  had  sent  him  a  lame  old  man,  and  that,  enemy  or 
none,  he  ought  not  to  be  kept  waiting,  with  arm  in 
sling  and  bandaged  head.  Seated  at  the  table  near 
her  was  a  grave  member  of  the  governor's  council, 
William  Drayton  by  name.  He  lifted  a  reproving 
finger  at  her  now,  but  with  a  smile  on  his  kindly 
face,  and  "  Fie,  fie,  young  lady  ! "  he  said,  in  a 
whisper. 

Presently  the  governor  mastered  his  surprise,  and 
seeing  that  the  young  man  was  of  birth  and  quality, 
extended  his  hand  cordially  enough,  and  said,  "  I  am 
glad  to  greet  you,  sir ; "  and  motioned  him  to  a  seat. 


r 


I- 

i'  a 
1 


8 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


**  But,  pray,  sit  down,"  he  added,  "  and  let  us  hear 
the  message  Count  Frontenac  has  sent.  Meanwhile 
we  would  be  favoured  with  your  name  and  rank.'* 

The  young  man  tlirust  a  hand  into  his  doublet 
and  drew  forth  a  packet  of  papers.  As  he  handed  it 
over,  he  said  in  English, — for  till  then  the  governor 
had  spoken  French,  having  once  served  with  the 
army  of  France  and  lived  at  the  French  Court, — 
"Your  excellency,  my  name  is  Pierre  le  Moyne  of 
Iberville,  son  of  Charles  le  Moyne,  a  seigneur  of 
Canada,  of  whom  you  may  have  heard."  (The  gov- 
ernor nodded.)  "  I  was  not  sent  by  Count  Frontenac 
to  you.  My  father  was  his  envoy :  to  debate  with  you 
our  trade  in  the  far  "West  and  our  dealings  with  the 
Iroquois." 

"  Exactly,"  said  old  William  Drayton,  tapping  the 
table  with  his  forefinger;  "and  a  very  sound  move, 
upon  my  soul." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  governor,  "I  know  of  your 
father  well  enough.  A  good  fighter  and  an  honest 
gentleman,  as  they  say.  But  proceed,  Monsieur  le 
Moyne  of  Iberville." 

"  I  am  called  Iberville,"  said  the  young  man  sim- 
ply.    Then,  "My  father  and   nijself  started  from 


AN  ENVOY  EXTRAORDINARY.  9 

Quebec    with    gc^d    Nick    Perrot,   the    coureur    de 

bois " 

"  I  know  him  too,"  the  governor  interjected — "  a 
scoundrel  worth  his  weight  in  gold  to  your  Count 
Frontenac." 

"For  whose  head  Count  Frohtenac  has  offered 
gold  in  his  time,"  answered  Iberville,  with  a  smile. 

"A  very  pretty  wit,"  said  old  William  Drayton, 
nodding  softly  towards  the  girl,  who  was  casting 
bright,  quizzical  glances  at  the  youth  over  the  back 
of  the  chair, 

Iberville  went  on,  "  Six  days  ago  we  were  set 
upon  by  a  score  of  your  Indians,  and  might  easily 
have  left  our  scalps  with  them ;  but  as  it  chanced,  my 
father  was  wounded,  I  came  off  scot-free,  and  we 
had  the  joy  of  ridding  your  excellency  of  half  a 
dozen  rogues." 

The  governor  lifted  his  eyebrows  and  said  noth- 
ing. The  face  of  the  girl  over  against  the  back  of 
the  chair  had  become  grave. 

"  It  was  in  question  whether  Perrot  or  I  should 
bear  Count  Frontenac's  message.  Perrot  knew  the 
way,  I  did  not.     Perrot  also  knew  the  Indians." 

"  Bui  Perrot,"  said  the  governor  bluffly,  "  would 


10 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


havfc  been  the  letter-carrier;  you  are  a  kiud  of  am- 
bassador. Upon  my  soul,  yes,  a  sort  of  ambassador ! " 
he  added,  enjoying  the  idea ;  for,  look  at  it  how  you 
would,  Iberville  was  but  a  boy. 

"That  was  my  father's  thought  and  my  own," 
answered  Iberville  coolly.  "  There  was  my  father  to 
care  for  till  his  wound  was  healed  and  he  could  travel 
back  to  Quebec,  so  we  thought  it  better  Perrot  should 
stay  with  him.  A  Le  Moyne  was  to  present  himself, 
and  a  Le  Moyne  has  done  so." 

The  governor  was  impressed  more  deeply  than  he 
showed.  It  was  a  time  of  peace,  but  the  young  m-  n's 
journey  among  Indian  braves  and  English  outlaws,  to 
whom  a  French  scalp  was  a  thing  of  price,  was  hard 
and  hazardous.  His  reply  was  cordial,  then  his  fin- 
gers came  to  the  seal  of  the  packet;  but  the  girl's 
hand  touched  his  arm. 

"  I  know  his  name,"  she  said  in  the  go  ;ernor's  ear, 
"  but  he  does  not  know  mine." 

The  governor  patted  her  hand,  and  then  rejoined, 
"  Now,  now,  I  forgot  the  lady ;  but  I  cannot  always 
remember  that  you  are  full  fifteen  years  old." 

Standing  up,  with  all  due  gravity  and  courtesy, 
"  Monsieur  Iberville,"  he  said,  "  let  me  present  you  to 


AN  ENVOV  EXTRAORDINARY. 


11 


Mistress  Jessica  Leveret,  the  daughter  of  my  good 
and  honoured  and  absent  friend,  the  Honourable 
llogarth  Leveret." 

So  the  governor  and  his  councillor  stood  shoulder 
to  shoulder  at  one  window,  debating  Count  Fronte- 
nac's  message:  and  shoulder  to  shoulder  at  another 
stood  Iberville  and  Jessica  Leveret.  And  what  was 
between  these  at  uiat  moment — though  none  could 
have  guessed  it — signified  as  much  to  the  colonies  of 
France  and  England,  at  strife  in  the  New  World,  as 
the  deliberations  of  their  elders. 


11 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE   THREAT  OF   A   RENEGADE. 


Iberville  was  used  to  the  society  of  women. 
Even  as  a  young  lad,  his  father's  notable  place  in  the 
colony,  and  the  freedom  and  gaiety  of  life  in  Que- 
bec and  Montreal,  had  drawn  upon  him  a  notice 
which  was  as  much  a  promise  of  the  future  as  an 
accent  of  the  present.  And  yet,  through  all  of  it,  he 
was  ever  better  inspired  by  the  grasp  of  a  common 
soldier,  who  had  served  with  Carigan-Salieres,  or  by 
the  greeting  and  gossip  of  such  woodsmen  as  Du 
Lhut,  Mantet,  La  Durantaye,  and,  most  of  all,  his 
Btaunch  friend  Perrot,  chief  of  the  coureurs  de  hois. 
Truth  is,  in  his  veins  was  the  strain  of  war  and 
adventure  first  and  before  all.  Under  his  tutor,  the 
good  P^re  Dollier  de  Casson,  he  had  never  endured 
his  classics,  save  for  the  sake  of  Hector  and  Achilles 
and  their  kind ;  and  his  knowledge  of  English,  which 
his  father  had  pressed  him  to  learn, — for  he  himself 

(12) 


THE  THREAT  OP  A  RENEGADE. 


18 


had  felt  the  lack  of  it  in  dealings  with  Dutch  aud 
English  traders, — only  grew  in  proportion  as  he  Wus 
given  Shakespeare  aud  Raleigh  to  explore. 

Soon  the  girl  laughed  up  at  him.  "  I  have  been  a 
great  traveller,"  she  said,  "  and  I  have  ears.  I  have 
been  as  far  west  as  Albany  and  south  to  Virginia, 
with  my  father,  who,  perhaps  you  do  not  know,  is  in 
England  now.  And  they  told  me  everywhere  that 
Frenchmen  are  bold,  dark  men,  with  great  black  eyes 
and  very  fine  laces  and  wigs,  and  a  trick  of  bowing 
and  making  foolish  compliments;  and  they  are  not 
to  be  trusted,  atid  they  will  not  fight  except  in  the 
woods,  where  there  are  trees  to  climb.  But  I  see  that 
it  is  not  all  true,  for  you  are  not  dark,  your  eyes  are 
not  big  or  black,  your  laces  are  not  much  to  see,  you 
do  not  make  compliments  '* 

"  I  shall  begin  now,"  he  interrupted. 
"  — you  must  be  trusted  a  little,  or  Count  Frontenac 
would  not  send  you,  and — and — tell  me :   would  you 
fight  if  you  had  a  chance  ?  " 

No  one  bt  her  sex  had  ever  talked  so  to  Iberville. 
Her  demure  raillery,  her  fresh,  frank  impertinence, 
through  which  there  ran  a  pretty  air  of  breeding,  her 
innocent  disregard  of  formality,  all  joined  to  impress, 


:l 


h.ni 


1 1 1'i 

'4 


i  I 


u 


1^  TIIK  TIUIL  OF  TliK  SWOUD. 

to  interest  him      tt«  « 

"••'»,  timnks  to  tl.o  great  bi«ho„  r  """"  "'" 

ti'o  Incarnation     I„  "  ' '  ""' """  '°  """"  "' 

'•^  '0  >ookin,  eheer4  :;  :      '  ^°  ^^"""-'  - 
"-n  his  .oat  in  Unn,  Lf    ,        ''  "  '""  ""^ 

«-ned,  Lis  v..nit  '       '''  '"""""  '^"^  ««"- 

"•  '"^  ^'""ty  was  not  easily  touched      S.  i     , 

'"g  with  genial  dryness  «  Vn    ^.„  "  °'^'"'''- 

01  course,"  he  said  "  b    '  "      '""^  '"'"«™  "' 

St.  Louis."  ""'  '""  """  *''«  Chdteau 

his  rep,;  °'  '^"  ''  ""^"*  ^-'^«''^."  - 

-t:ot:,!;r/"'"^^"^^*--"-- 

he  gave  a  «t«e  t  V    /'     ""  "'"''"^-    ^^^^ 
feove  a  Jittle  start  and  a  low  whistle  b«-i  i.- 

slightly  drooped,  givi„„  hin,       ,      !'  '^''"^ 

SOI'     ho  said  between  his  teeth    »p  ^• 
Badisson,  as  I  live ! "  .  '     ^^'""on- 


THE  THREAT  OP  A   UENEGADE. 


15 


IIo  had  seen  a  man  cross  a  corner  of  the  yard. 
This  man  was  short,  dark-bearded,  with  black,  lanky 
hair,  brass  earrings,  and  buckskin  leggings,  all  the 
typical  equipment  of  the  French  courctcr  tie  bois. 
Iberville  had  only  got  one  glance  at  his  face,  but  the 
sinister  profile  could  never  be  forgotten.  At  once  the 
man  passed  out  of  view.  The  girl  had  not  seen  him, 
sho  had  been  watching  her  companion.  Presently  she 
said,  her  fingers  just  brushing  his  sleeve,  for  he  stood 
eyeing  the  point  where  the  man  had  disappeared : 
"  Wonderful !  You  look  now  as  if  you  would  fight. 
Oh,  fierce,  fierce  as  the  governor  when  he  catches  a 
French  spy." 

He  turned  to  her  and,  with  a  touch  of  irony,  Par- 
don !'*''  he  retorted.  "Now  I  shall  look  as  blithe  as 
the  governor  when  a  traitor  deserts  to  him." 

Of  purpose  he  spoke  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
the  governor  and  his  friend.  The  governor  turned 
sharply  on  him.  He  had  caught  the  ring  in  the 
voice,  that  rash  enthusiasm  of  eager  youth,  and,  tak- 
ing a  step  towards  Iberville,  Count  Frontenac's  letter 
still  poised  in  his  hand,  "  Were  your  words  meant  for 
my  hearing,  monsieur?"  he  said.  "Were  you  speak- 
ing of  me  or  of  your  governor  ?  " 


r-n 


10 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


1 1. 


"  I  was  thinking  of  one  Radisson,  a  traitor,  and  I 
was  speaking  of  yourself,  your  excellency." 

The  governor  had  asked  his  question  in  French,  in 
French  the  reply  was  given.  Both  the  girl  and  Coun- 
cillor Drayton  followed  with  difficulty.  Jessica  looked 
a  message  to  her  comrade  in  ignorance.  The  old 
man  touched  the  governor's  arm.  "  Let  it  be  in 
English  if  monsieur  is  willing.  He  speaks  it 
well." 

The  governor  was  at  work  to  hide  his  anger :  he 
wished  good  greeting  to  Count  Frontenac's  envoy, 
and  it  seemed  not  fitting  to  be  touched  by  the  charges 
of  a  boy.  "  I  must  tell  you  frankly,  Monsieur  Iber- 
ville," he  said,  "  that  I  do  not  choose  to  find  a  sort  of 
challenge  in  your  words ;  and  I  doubt  that  your 
father,  had  he  been  here,  would  have  spoken  quite  so 
roundly.  But  I  am  for  peace  and  happy  temper  when 
I  can.  I  may  not  help  it  if  your  people,  tired  of  the 
governance  of  Louis  of  France,  come  into  the  good 
ruling  of  King  Charles.  As  for  this  man  Radisson : 
what  is  it  you  would  have  ?  " 

Iberville  was  now  well  settled  back  upon  his  na- 
tive courage.  He  swallowed  the  rebuke  with  grace, 
and  replied  with  frankness,  "  Radisson  is  an  outlaw. 


THE  THREAT  OF  A  RENEGADE. 


17 


Once  he  attempted  Count  Frontenac's  life.  He  sold 
a  band  of  our  traders  to  the  Iroquois.  He  led  your 
Hollanders  stealthily  to  cut  off  the  Indians  of  the 
AVest,  who  were  coming  with  their  year's  furs  to  our 
merchants.  There  is  peace  between  your  colony  and 
ours — is  it  fair  to  harbour  such  a  wretch  in  your 
court-yard?  It  was  said  up  in  Quebec,  your  excel- 
lency, that  such  men  have  eaten  at  your  table." 

During  this  speech  the  governor  seemed  choleric, 
but  a  change  passed  over  him,  and  he  fell  to  admiring 
the  lad's  boldness.  "Upon  my  soul,  monsieur,"  ho 
said,  "you  are  council,  judge,  and  jury  all  in  one;  but 
I  think  I  need  not  weigh  the  thing  with  you,  for  his 
excellency,  from  whom  you  come,  has  set  forth  this 
same  charge," — he  tapped  the  paper, — "  and  we  will 
not  spoil  good  fellowship  by  threshing  it  now."  He 
laughed  a  little  ironically.  "  And  I  promise  you,"  he 
added,  "that  your  Radisson  shall  neither  drink  wine 
nor  eat  bread  with  you  at  my  table.  And  now,  come, 
lest  us  talk  awhile  together;  for,  lest  any  accident 
befall  the  packet  you  shall  bear,  I  wish  you  to  carry 
in  your  memory,  with  great  distinctness,  the  terms  of 
my  writing  to  your  governor.  I  would  that  it  were 
not  to  be  written,  for  I  hate  the  quill,  and  I've  seen 


18 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


the  time  I  would  rather  point  my  sword  red  than  my 
goose-horn  black." 

By  this  the  shadows  were  falling.  In  the  west  the 
sun  was  slipping  down  behind  the  hills,  leaving  the 
strong  day  with  a  rosy  and  radiant  glamour,  that 
faded  away  in  eloquent  tones  to  the  grey,  tinsel  soft- 
ness of  the  zenith.  Out  in  the  yard  a  sumach  bush 
was  aflame.  Rich  tiger-lilies  thrust  in  at  the  sill,  and 
lazy  flies  and  king  bees  boomed  in  and  out  of  the 
window.  Something  out  of  the  sunset,  out  of  the 
glorious  freshness  and  primal  majesty  of  the  new 
land,  t  iffused  through  the  room  where  those  four 
people  stood,  and  made  them  silent.  Presently  the 
governor  drew  his  chair  to  the  table,  and  motioned 
Councillor  Drayton  and  Iberville  to  be  seated. 

The*  girl  touched  his  arm.  "  And  where  am  I  to 
sit  ? "  she  asked  demurely.  Colonel  Nicholls  pursed 
his  lips  and  seemed  to  frown  severely  on  her.  "  To 
sit?  Why,  in  your  room,  mistress.  Tut,  tut,  you  are 
too  bold.  If  I  did  not  know  your  father  was  coming 
soon  to  bear  you  off,  new  orders  should  be  issued. 
Yes,  yes,  e'en  as  I  say,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  the 
laughter  in  her  eyes. 

She  knew  that  she  could  wind  the  big-mannered 


»!wer«tMM-aM>u«ij«pw 


THE  THREAT  OF  A  RENEGADE. 


19 


soldier  about  her  finger.  She  had  mastered  his  house- 
hold, she  was  the  idol  of  the  settlement,  her  flexible 
intelligence,  the  flush  of  the  first  delicate  bounty  of 
womanhood  had  made  him  her  slave.  In  a  matter  of 
vexing  weight  he  would  not  have  let  her  stay,  but 
such  delibera tings  as  he  would  have  with  Iberville 
could  well  bear  her  scrutiny.  He  reached  out  cj 
pinch  her  cheek,  but  she  deftly  tipped  her  head  and 
caught  his  outstretched  fingers.  "But  where  am  I 
to  sit?"  she  persisted. 

"Anywhere,  then,  but  at  the  council-table,"  was 
his  response,  as  he  wagged  a  finger  at  her  and  sat 
down.  Going  over  she  perched  herself  on  a  high  stool 
in  the  window  behind  Iberville.  He  could  not  see 
her,  and,  if  he  thought  at  all  about  it,  he  must  have 
supposed  that  she  could  not  see  him.  Yet  she  could ; 
for  at  the  window-frame  was  a  mirror,  and  it  reflected 
his  face  and  the  doings  at  the  board.  She  did  not 
listen  to  the  rumble  of  voices.  She  fell  to  studying 
Iberville.    Once  or  twice  she  laughed  softly  to  herself. 

As  she  turned  to  the  window  a  man  passed  by  and 
looked  in  at  her.  His  look  was  singular,  and  she 
started.  Something  about  his  face  was  familiar.  She 
found  her  mind  feeling  among  far  memories,  for  even 


l^^i! ! 


20 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


4  I  \ 


I  «i:   :- 


lli  I 


I; 
I 


1  I 
il  f 


i    \ 


I    ■'.  ■ 


■a!  t 


the  past  of  the  young  stretches  out  interminably. 
She  shuddered,  and  a  troubled  look  came  into  her 
eyes.  Yet  she  could  not  remember.  She  leaned 
slightly  forward,  as  if  she  were  peering  into  that  by- 
gone world  which,  may  be,  is  wider  than  the  future 
for  all  of  us — the  past.  Her  eyes  grew  deep  and 
melancholy.  The  sunset  seemed  to  brighten  around 
her  all  at  once,  and  enmesh  her  in  a  golden  web, 
burnishing  her  hair,  and  it  fell  across  her  brow  with 
a  peculiar  radiance,  leaving  the  temples  in  shadow, 
softening  and  yet  lighting  the  carmine  of  her  cheeks 
and  lips,  giving  a  feeling  of  life  to  her  dress,  which 
itself  was  like  dusty  gold.  Her  hands  were  caught 
and  clasped  at  her  knees.  There  was  something 
spiritual  and  exalted  in  the  picture.  It  had,  too,  a 
touch  of  tragedy,  for  something  out  of  her  nebulous 
past  had  been  reflected  in  faint  shadows  in  her  eyes, 
and  this  again,  by  strange,  delicate  processes,  was  ex- 
pressed in  every  line  of  her  form,  in  all  the  aspect  of 
her  face.  It  was  as  if  some  knowledge  were  being 
filtered  to  her  through  myriad  atmospheres  of  pre- 
monition ;  as  though  the  gods  in  pity  foreshadowed  a 
great  trouble,  that  the  first  rudeness  of  misery  might 
be  spared. 


<b' 


THE  THREAT  OF  A  RENEGADE. 


21 


She  did  not  note  that  Iberville  had  risen,  and  had 
come  round  the  tabic  to  look  over  Councillor  Dray- 
ton's shoulder  at  a  map  spread  out.  After  standing  a 
moment  watching,  the  councillor's  finger  his  pilot,  ho 
started  back  to  his  seat.  As  he  did  so,  he  caught 
sight  of  her,  still  in  that  poise  of  wonderment,  and 
sadness.  He  stopped  short,  then  glanced  at  Colonel 
Nicholls  and  the  councillor.  Both  were  bent  over 
the  map,  talking  in  eager  tones.  He  came  softly 
round  the  table,  and  was  about  to  speak  over  her 
shoulder,  when  she  drew  herself  up  with  a  little 
shiver  and  seemed  to  come  back  from  afar.  Her 
hands  went  up  to  her  eyes.  Then  she  heard  him. 
She  turned  quickly,  with  the  pageant  of  her  dreams 
still  wavering  in  her  face,  smiled  at  him  distantly, 
looked  towards  the  window  again  in  a  troubled  way, 
then  stepped  softly  and  swiftly  to  the  door,  and 
passed  out.  Iberville  watched  the  door  close  and 
turned  to  the  window.  Again  he  saw,  and  this  time 
nearer  to  the  window,  Eadisson,  and  with  him  the 
man  who  had  so  suddenly  mastered  Jessica. 

He  turned  to  Colonel  Nicholls.  **  Your  excellen- 
cy," he  said,  "  will  you  not  let  me  tell  Count  Fronte- 
nac  that  you  forbid  Eadisson   your  purlieus?    For, 


22 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


I 


Bf; 


believe  me,  sir,  there  is  no  greater  rogue  unhanged,  as 
you  shall  find  some  day  to  the  hurt  of  your  colony,  if 
you  shelter  him." 

The  governor  rose  and  paced  the  room  thought- 
fully.   "  He  is  proclaimed  by  Frontenac  ?  "    he  asked. 

"A  price  is  on  his  head.  As  a  Frenchman  I 
should  shoot  him  like  a  wolf  where'er  I  saw  him ;  and 
so  I  would  now  were  I  not  Count  Frontenac's  am- 
bassador and  in  your  excellency's  presenc«." 

"  You  speak  manfully,  monsieur,"  said  the  gover- 
nor, not  ill-pleased ;  "  but  how  might  you  shoot  him 
now?  Is  he  without  there?"  At  this  he  came  to 
where  Iberville  stood,  and  looked  out.  "  Who  is  the 
fellow  with  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"A  cut-throat  scoundrel,  I'll  swear,  though  his 
face  is  so  smug,"  said  Iberville.  "  What  think  you, 
sir  ?  "  turning  to  the  councillor,  who  was  peering  be- 
tween their  shoulders. 

"  As  artless  yet  as  strange  a  face  as  I  have  ever 
seen,"  answered  the  merchant.  "  What's  his  business 
here,  and  why  comes  he  with  the  other  rogue  ?  He 
would  speak  with  your  excellency,  I  doubt  not,"  he 
added. 

Colonel  Nicholls  turned  to  Iberville.    "  You  shall 


THE  THREAT  OF  A  RENEGADE. 


23 


have  your  way,"  he  said.  "  Yon  renegade  was  useful 
when  we  did  not  know  wliat  sudden  game  was  phiy- 
ing  from  Chdteau  St.  Louis ;  for,  as  you  can  guess,  ho 
has  friends  as  faithless  as  himself.  But  to  please  your 
governor,  I  will  proclaim  him." 

He  took  his  stick  and  tapped  the  floor.  Waiting 
a  moment,  he  tapped  again.  There  was  no  sign. 
lie  opened  the  door,  but  his  Scots  bodyguard  was  not 
in  sight.  "That's  unusual,"  he  said.  Then,  look- 
ing round,  "Where  is  our  other  councillor?  Gone?" 
he  laughed.  "  Faith,  I  did  not  see  her  go.  And  now 
we  can  swear  that  where  the  dear  witch  is  will  Morris, 
my  Scotsman,  be  found.  Well,  well !  They  have 
their  way  with  us  whether  we  will  or  no.  But,  here, 
I'll  have  your  Radisson  in  at  once." 

He  was  in  act  to  call  when  Morris  entered.  With 
a  little  hasty  rebuke  he  gave  his  order.  "  And  look 
you,  my  good  Morris,"  he  added,  "  tell  Sherlock  and 
Weir  to  stand  ready.     I  may  need  the  show  of  fire- 


arms. 


» 


Turning  to  Iberville,  he  said,  "I  trust  you  will 
rest  with  us  some  days,  monsieur.  We  shall  have 
sports  and  junketings  anon.  We  are  not  yet  so  grim 
as  our  friends  in  Massachusetts." 


'ili 


1 
if  ■♦' 

lit: 


I 


I 


24 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


"  I  thiiik  I  might  venture  two  days  with  you,  sir, 
if  for  nothing  else,  to  see  Radisson  proclaimed.  Count 
Frontenac  would  gladly  cut  months  from  his  calendar 
to  know  you  ceased  to  harbour  one  who  can  prove  no 
friend." 

The  governor  smiled.  "  You  have  a  rare  taste  for 
challenge,  monsieur.  To  be  frank,  I  will  say  yonr 
gift  is  more  that  of  the  soldier  than  the  envoy.  But 
upon  my  soul,  if  you  will  permit  me,  I  think  no  less 
of  you  for  that." 

Then  the  door  opened,  and  Morris  brought  in 
Radisson.  The  keen,  sinister  e3^es  of  the  woodsman 
travelled  from  face  to  face,  and  rested  savagely  on 
Iberville.  He  scented  trouble,  and  traced  it  to  its 
source.  Iberville  drew  back  to  the  window  and,  rest- 
ing his  arm  on  the  high  stool  where  Jessica  had  sat, 
waited  the  event.  Presently  the  governor  came  over 
to  him. 

"  You  can  understand,"  he  said  quietly,  "  that  this 
man  has  been  used  by  my  people,  and  that  things  may 
be  said  which " 

Iberville  waved  his  hand  respectfully.  "  I  under- 
stand, your  excellency,"  he  said.  "I  will  go."  He 
went  to  the  door. 


THE  THREAT  OP  A  RENEGADE. 


25 


you,  sir, 
I.  Count 
calendar 
prove  no 

taste  for 

ay  your 

y.     But 

no  less 

iglit  in 
odsman 
?ely  on 
to  its 
d,  rest- 
ad  sat, 
e  over 

at  this 
js  may 

mder- 
He 


The  woodsman  as  he  passed  broke  out,  "  There  is 
the  old  saying  of  the  woods,  *  It  is  mad  for  the  young 
wolf  to  trail  the  old  bear.'  " 

"  That  is  so,"  rejoined  Iberville,  with  excellent 
coolness,  "  if  the  wolf  holds  not  the  spring  of  the 
trap." 

In  the  outer  room  were  two  soldiers  and  the  Scot. 
He  nodded,  passed  into  the  yard,  and  there  he  paced 
up  and  down.  Once  he  saw  Jessica's  face  at  a  win- 
dow, he  was  astonished  to  see  how  changed.  It  wore 
a  grave,  an  apprehensive  look.  He  fell  to  wondering, 
but  even  as  he  wondered  his  habit  of  observation 
made  him  take  in  every  feature  of  the  governor's 
house  and  garden,  so  that  he  could  have  reproduced 
all  as  it  was  mirrored  in  his  eye.  Presently  he  found 
himself  again  associating  Radisson's  comrade  with  the 
vague  terror  in  Jessica's  face.  At  last  he  saw  the  fel- 
low come  forth  between  two  soldiers,  and  the  woods- 
man turned  his  head  from  side  to  side,  showing  his 
teeth  like  a  wild  beast  at  bi;  at  of  Iberville.     Ilis 

v., 

black  brows  twitched  over  his  vicious  eyes.  "  There 
are  many  ways  to  hell.  Monsieur  Iberville,"  he  said ; 
*'  I  will  show  you  one.  Some  day  when  you  think 
you  tread  on  a  wisp  of  straw,  it  will  be  a  snake  with 


2G 


THE  TRAIL  OF  TUE  SWORD. 


if 


! 


the  deadly  tooth.  You  have  made  an  outlaw — take 
care!  When  the  outlaw  tires  of  the  game,  he  winds 
it  up — quick !  And  some  one  pays  for  the  candles 
and  the  cards." 

Iberville  walked  up  to  him.  "  Radisson,"  he  said 
in  voice  well  controlled,  "you  have  always  been  an 
outlaw.  In  our  native  country  you  were  a  traitor ;  in 
this,  you  are  the  traitor  still.  I  am  not  sorry  for  you, 
for  you  deserve  not  mercy.  Prove  me  wrong.  Go 
back  to  Quebec ;  olrer  to  pay  with  your  neck, 
then "  ' 

"  I  will  have  my  hour,"  said  the  woodsman,  and 
started  on. 

"  It's  a  pity,"  said  Iberville  to  himself;  "  as  fine  a 
woodsman  as  Perrot  too ! " 


11  vv— take 
ho  winds 
i  candles 

'  he  said 
been  an 
liter;  in 
for  you, 
ng.  Go 
r    neck, 

an,  and 
IS  fine  a 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   FACE    AT  THE    WINDOW. 

At  the  governor's  table  that  niglit  certain  ladies 
and  gentlemen  assembled  to  do  the  envoy  honour. 
Came,  too,  a  young  gentleman,  son  of  a  distinguished 
New  Englander,  his  name  George  Gering,  who  was 
now  in  New  York  for  the  first  time.  The  truth  is, 
his  visit  was  to  Jessica,  his  old  playmate,  the  mistress 
of  his  boyhood.  Her  father  was  in  England,  her 
mother  had  been  dead  many  years,  and  Colonel 
Nicholls  and  his  sister  being  kinsfolk,  a  whole  twelve- 
month ago  he  had  left  her  with  them.  lie  had  meant 
at  first  to  house  her  in  Boston  with  his  old  friend 
Edward  Gering,  but  he  loved  the  Cavalier-like  tone  of 
Colonel  Nicholls'  household  better  than  the  less  in- 
spiriting air  which  Madam  Puritan  Gering  suffused 
about  her  home.  Himself  in  early  youth  had  felt  the 
austerity  of  a  Cavalier  father  turned  a  Puritan  on  a 
sudden,  and  he  wished  no  such  experience  for  his 

(27) 


28 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWOUD. 


daughter.  For  till  her  abundancy  of  life  and  feeling, 
lie  knew  how  plastic  and  impressionable  she  was,  and 
he  dreaded  to  see  that  exaltation  of  her  fresh  spirit 
touched  with  gloom.  She  was  his  only  child,  she  had 
been  little  out  of  his  sight,  her  education  had  gone  on 
under  his  own  care,  and  in  so  far  as  was  possible  in  a 
new  land,  ho  had  surrounded  her  with  gracious  in- 
fluences. He  looked  forward  to  any  definite  separa- 
tion (as  marriage)  with  apprehension.  Perhaps  one 
of  the  reasons  why  he  chose  Colonel  Nicholls'  house 
foi'  her  home,  was  a  fear  lest  George  Gering  should  so 
impress  her  that  she  might  somehow  change  ere  his 
return.  And  in  those  times  brides  of  sixteen  were 
common  as  now  they  are  rare. 

She  sat  on  the  governor's  left.  All  the  brightness, 
the  soft  piquancy,  which  Iberville  knew,  had  returned ; 
and  he  wondered, — fortunate  to  know  that  wonder  so 
young, — at  her  varying  moods,  "jhe  talked  little,  and 
mosu  with  the  governor ;  but  her  presence  seemed 
pervasive,  the  aura  in  her  veins  flowed  from  her  eye 
and  made  an  atmosphere  that  lighted  even  the 
scarred  and  rather  sulky  faces  of  two  officers  of  His 
Majesty.  They  had  served  with  Nicholls  in  Spain, 
but  not   having  eaten   King  Louis'  bread,  eyed  all 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW. 


20 


Frenchmen  askance,  and  were  not  needlessly  courteous 
to  Iberville,  whoso  achievments  they  could  scarce  ap- 
preciate, having  done  no  Indian  fighting. 

Iberville  sat  at  the  governor's  end.  Goring  at  tho 
other.  It  was  remarkable  to  Iberville  that  Gering's 
eyes  were  much  on  Jessica,  and  in  the  spirit  of  rivalry, 
the  legitimate  growth  of  race  and  habit,  ho  began  to 
speak  to  her  with  the  air  of  easy  but  deliberate  play- 
fulness which  marked  their  first  meeting. 

Presently  she  spoke  across  the  table  to  him,  after 
Colonel  Nicholls  had  pledged  him  heartily  over  wine. 
The  tone  was  a  half  whisper  as  of  awe,  in  reality  a 
pretty  mockery.  "  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  what  is  tho 
bravest  and  greatest  thing  you  ever  did?  " 

"  Jessica,  Jessica ! "  said  the  governor  in  reproof. 
An  old  Dutch  burgher  laughed  into  his  hand,  and 
His  Majesty's  officers  cocked  their  ears,  for  the  whis- 
per was  more  arresting  than  any  loud  talk.  Iberville 
coloured,  but  the  flush  passed  quickly  and  left  him 
unembarrassed.  lie  was  not  hurt,  not  even  piqued, 
for  he  felt  well  used  to  her  dainty  raillery.  But  he 
saw  that  Gering's  eyes  were  on  him,  and  the  lull  that 
fell  as  by  a  common  instinct — for  all  could  not  have 
heard  the  question — gave  him  a  thrill  of   timidity. 


80 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


II 


iw  ■ 


But,  smiling,  he  said  dr^'ly  across  the  table,  his  voice 
quiet  and  clear,  "  My  bravest  and  greatest  thing  was 
to  answer  an  English  lady's  wit  in  English." 

A  murmur  of  applause  ran  round,  and  Jessica 
laughed  and  clapped  her  hands.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life  Gering  had  a  pang  of  jealous  and  envy. 
Only  that  afternoon  he  had  spent  ,a  happy  hour  with 
Jessica  in  tlie  governor's  garden,  and  he  had  then 
made  an  advance  upon  the  simple  relations  of  their 
life  in  Boston.  She  had  met  him  without  self-con- 
sciousness, persisting  in  her  old  ways,  and  showing 
only  when  she  left  him,  and  then  for  a  breath,  that 
she  saw  his  new  attitude.  'Now  the  eyes  of  the  two 
men  met,  and  Gering's  dark  face  flushed  and  his  brow 
lowered.  Perhaps  no  one  saw  but  Iberville,  but  he, 
seeing,  felt  a  sudden  desire  to  play  upon  the  other's 
weakness.  lie  was  too  good  a  sportsman  to  show 
temper  in  a  game ;  he  had  suddenly  come  to  the 
knowledge  that  love,  too,  is  a  game,  and  needs  play- 
ing. By  this  time  the  dinner  was  drawing  to  its  close, 
and  now  a  singular  thing  happened.  As  Jessica,  with 
demure  amusement,  listened  to  the  talk  that  followed 
Iberville's  sally,  she  chanced  to  lift  her  eyes  to  a  win- 
dow.    She  started,  changed  colour,  and  gave  a  little 


III 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW. 


31 


,.'c 


I 


cry.  The  governor's  hand  covered  hers  at  once  as  ho 
followed  her  look.  It  was  a  summer's  night,  and  the 
curtained  windows  were  partly  open.  Iberville  noted 
that  Jessica's  face  wore  the  self-same  shadow  as  in  the 
afternoon  when  she  had  seen  the  stranger  with  Radis- 
son. 

"  What  was  it,  my  dear  ?  "  said  the  governor. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  pressed  his  hand  nerv- 
ously. 

"  A  spy,  I  believe,"  said  Iberville,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Jessica  in  a  half  whisper ;  "  a  man 
looked  in  at  the  window ;  a  face  that  I  have  seen — but 
I  can't  remember  when." 

The  governor  went  to  the  window  and  drcv/  the 
curtains.  There  was  nothing  to  see.  He  ordered 
Morris,  who  stood  behind  his  chair,  to  have  the 
ground  searched  and  to  bring  in  any  straggler. 
Already  both  the  officers  were  on  their  way  to  the 
door,  and  at  this  point  it  opened  and  let  in  a  soldier. 
He  said  that  as  he  and  his  comrade  were  returning 
from  their  duty  with  Radisson,  they  saw  a  man  lurk- 
ing in  the  grounds  and  seized  him.  He  had  made  no 
rosistance,  and  was  now  under  guard  in  the  anteroom. 
The  governor  apologised  to  his  guests,  but  the  dinner 


82 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


»  •  r 


h\ 


•A- 

!! 


(• 


could  not  be  ended  formally  now,  so  the  ladies  rose 
and  retired.  Jessica,  making  a  mighty  effort  to 
recover  herself,  succeeded  so  well  that  ere  she  went 
she  was  able  to  reproach  herself  for  her  alarm;  the 
more  so  because  the  governor's  sister  showed  her  such 
consideration  as  would  be  given  a  frightened  child, — 
and  she  had  begun  to  feel  something  more. 

m 

The  ladies  gone,  the  governor  drew  his  guests 
about  him  and  ordered  in  the  prisoner.  Morris  spoke 
up,  saying  that  the  man  had  begged  an  interview  with 
the  governor  that  afternoon,  but,  being  told  that  his 
excellency  was  engaged,  had  said  another  time  would 
do.  This  man  was  the  prisoner.  He  came  in  under 
guard,  but  he  bore  himself  quietly  enough  and  made  a 
low  bow  to  the  governor.  He  was  not  an  ill-favoured 
fellow.  His  eye  was  steely  cold,  but  his  face  was 
hearty  and  round,  and  remarkably  free  from  vicious- 
ness.  He  had  a  cheerful  air  and  an  alert  freedom  of 
manner,  which  suggested  good  fellowship  and  honest 
enterprise.  Where  his  left  hand  had  been  was  an 
iron  hook,  but  not  obtrusively  in  view,  nor  did  it  give 
any  marked  grimness  to  his  appearance.  Indit^ed,  the 
effect  was  almost  comical  Tvhen  he  lifted  it  and 
scratched  his  head  and  then  rubbed  his  chin  with  it ; 


I 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW. 


33 


^ 


it  made  him  look  part  bumpkin  and  part  sailor.  He 
bore  the  scrutiny  of  the  company  very  well,  and  pres- 
ently bowed  again  to  the  governor  as  one  who  waited 
the  expression  of  that  officer's  goodwill  and  pleasure. 

"  Now,  fellow,"  said  the  colonel,  "  think  yourself 
lucky  my  soldiers  here  did  not  shoot  you  without 
shrift.  You  chance  upon  good-natured  times.  When 
a  spying  stranger  comes  dangling  about  these  win- 
dows, my  men  are  given  to  adorning  the  nearest  tree 
with  him.  Out  with  the  truth  now.  Who  and  what 
are  you,  and  why  are  you  here  ?  " 

The  fellow  bowed.  "  I  am  the  captain  of  a  little 
trading  schooner,  the  Nell  Gwynn,  which  anchors  in 
the  roadstead  till  I  have  laid  some  private  business  be- 
fore your  excellency  and  can  get  on  to  West  Indies." 

**  Business — private  business  !  Then  what  in  the 
name  of  all  that's  infernal,"  quoth  Nicholls,  "  brought 
your  sneaking  face  to  yon  window  to  fright  my  lady- 
guests  ?  "  The  memory  of  Jessica's  alarm  came  hotly 
to  his  mind.  "  By  God,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a  will  to 
see  you  lifted  for  means  to  better  manners ! " 

The  man  stood  very  quiet,  now  and  again,  how- 
ever, raising  the  hook  to  stroke  his  chin.  He  showed 
no  fear,  but  Iberville,  with  his  habit  of  observation. 


i 


ifia 


mm 


34 


TUB  TltAIL  OF  TUE  SWORD. 


i 


i^:-;^: 


caught  in  his  eyes,  shining  superficially  with  a  sailor's 
open  honesty,  a  strange,  ulterior  look.  "  My  busi- 
ness," so  he  ans  vered  Nicholls,  "  is  for  your  excellen- 
cy's ears."    He  bowed  again. 

"  Have  done  with  scraping.  Now,  I  tell  you  what, 
my  gentle  spy,  if  your  business  hath  not  concern  I'll 
stretch  you  by  your  fingers  there  to  our  public  gal- 
lows, and  my  fellows  shall  fill  you  with  small  shot  as 
full  as  a  pod  of  peas." 

The  governor  rose  and  went  into  another  room, 
followed  by  this  strange  visitor  and  the  two  soldiers. 
There  he  told  the  guard  to  wait  at  the  door,  which 
entered  into  the  anteroom.  Then  he  unlocked  a 
drawer  and  took  out  of  it  a  pair  of  pistols.  These  he 
laid  on  the  table  (for  he  knew  the  times),  noting  the 
while  that  the  seaman  watched  him  with  a  pensive, 
deprecating  grin. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said  sharply  (for  he  was  something 
nettled),  "  out  with  your  business  and  your  name  in 
preface." 

"  My  name  is  Edward  Bucklaw,  and  I  have  come 
to  your  excellency  because  I  know  there  is  no  braver 
and  more  enterprising  gentleman  in  the  world."  lie 
paused. 


THE  FACE  AT  THE  WINDOW. 


35 


"  So  much  for  preamble ;  now  for  the  discourse." 
"  By  your  excellency's  leave.  I  am  a  poor  man. 
I  have  only  my  little  craft  and  a  handful  of  seamen 
picked  uj)  at  odd  prices.  But  there's  gold  and  silver 
enough  I  know  of,  owned  by  no  man,  to  make  cargo 
and  ballast  for  the  Nell  Gwynn^  or  another  twice  her 


size.  , 

"Gold  and  silver,"  said  the  governor,  cocking  his 
ear  and  eyeing  his  visitor  up  and  down.  Colonel 
NichoUs  had  an  acquisitive  instinct.  He  was  inter- 
ested. "  Well !  well !  gold  and  silver,"  he  continued, 
*'  to  fill  the  Nell  Givynn  and  another  ?  And  what 
concern  is  that  of  mine  ?  Let  your  words  come  plain 
off  your  tongue,  for  I  have  no  time  for  foolery." 

"'Tis  no  foolery  on  my  tongue,  sir,  as  you  may 
please  to  see." 

He  drew  a  paper  from  his  pocket  and  shook  it  out 
as  he  came  a  little  nearer,  speaking  all  the  while.  His 
voice  had  gone  low  running  to  a  soft  kind  of  chuckle, 
and  his  eyes  were  snapping  with  fire,  which  Iberville 
alone  had  seen  was  false.  "  I  have  come  to  make 
your  excellency's  fortune,  if  you  will  stand  by  with  a 
good,  stout  ship  and  a  handful  of  men  to  soe  me 
through." 


hi 

ll 

' '  - - 


36 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


The  governor  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Babble," 
he  said,  "  all  babble  and  bubble.     But  go  on." 

"  Babble,  your  honour !  Every  word  of  it  is  worth 
a  pint  of  guineas ;  and  this  is  the  pith  of  it.  Far 
down  West  Indies  way,  some  twenty-five  maybe,  or 
thirty  years  ago,  there  was  a  plate  ship  wrecked  upon 
a  reef.  I  got  it  from  a  Spaniard,  who  had  been  sworn 
upon  oath  to  keep  it  secret  by  his  priests  who  knew. 
The  priests  were  killed  and  after  a  time  the  Spaniard 
died  also,  but  not  until  he  had  given  me  the  'ways 
whereby  I  should  got  at  what  makes  a  man's  heart 
rap  in  his  weasand." 

"  Let  me  see  your  chart,"  said  the  governor. 

A  half-hour  later  he  rose,  went  to  the  door,  md 
sent  a  soldier  for  the  two  king's  officers.  As  he  did 
so,  Bucklaw  read  the  room-doors,  windows,  fireplaces, 
with  a  grim,  stealthy  smile  trailing  across  his  face. 
Then  suddenly  the  good  creature  was  his  old  good 
self  again — the  comfortable  shrewdness,  the  buoyant 
devil-may-care,  the  hook  stroking  the  chin  pensively. 
And  the  king's  officers  came  in,  and  soon  all  four 
were  busy  with  the  map. 


•  TiifnT'iT  nilTITTTr ia>1.  n-J 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   UPLIFTING    OF   THE   SWOKDS. 

Iberville  and  Gering  sat  on  with  the  tobacco 
and  the  wine.  The  older  men  had  joined  the  ladies, 
the  governor  having  politely  asked  them  to  do  so 
when  they  chose.  The  other  occupant  of  the  room 
was  Morris,  who  still  stood  stolidly  behind  Lis  mas- 
ter's chair. 

i'or  a  time  he  heard  the  talk  of  the  two  young 
men  as  in  a  kind  of  dream.  Their  words  were  not 
loud,  their  manner  was  amicable  enough,  if  the  shar- 

> 

ing  of  a  bottle  were  anything  to  the  point.  But  they 
were  sitting  almost  the  full  length  of  the  table  from 
him,  and  to  quarrel  courteously  and  with  an  air  hath 
ever  been  a  quality  in  men  of  gentle  blood. 

If  Morris'  eyesight  had  been  better,  he  would  have 
seen  that  Gering  handled  his  wine  nervously,  and  had 
put  down  his  long  Dutch  pipe.  He  would  also  have 
seen  that  Iberville  was  smoking  with  deliberation,  and 


I 


38 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


drinking  with  a  kind  of  mannered  coolness.  Gering's 
face  was  flushed,  his  fine  nostrils  were  swelling  vi- 
ciously, his- teeth  showed  white  against  his  red  lips, 
and  his  eyes  glinted.  There  was  a  kind  of  devilry  at 
Iberville's  large  and  sensuous  mouth,  but  his  eyes 
were  steady  and  provoking ;  and  while  Gering's  words 
went  forth  pantingly,  Iberville's  were  slow  and  con- 
cise, and  chosen  with  the  certainty  of  a  lapidary. 

It  is  hard  to  tell  which  had  started  the  quarrel, 
but  an  edge  was  on  their  talk  from  the  beginning. 
Gering  had  been  moved  by  a  boyish  jealousy ;  Iber- 
ville, who  saw  the  injustice  of  his  foolish  temper,  had 
played  his  new-found  enemy  with  a  malicious  adroit- 
ness. The  aboriginal  passions  were  strong  in  him. 
He  had  come  of  a  people  which  had  to  do  with 
essentials  in  the  matter  of  emotions.  To  love,  to 
hate,  to  fight,  to  explore,  to  hunt,  to  be  loyal,  to 
avenge,  to  bow  to  Mother  Church,  to  honour  the 
king,  to  beget  children,  to  taste  outlawry  under  a 
more  refined  name,  and  to  die  without  whining: 
that  was  its  range  of  duty,  and  a  very  sufficient  range 
it  was. 

The  talk  had  been  running  on  Bucklaw.  It  had 
then  shifted  to  Radisson.     Gering  had  crowded  homo 


/ 


-rrTTr"  im  imiiiiiiag 


THE  UPLIFTING  OF  THE  SWORDS. 


39 


with  flagrant  emphasis  tlie  fact  that,  while  Radisson 
was  a  traitor  and  a  scoundrel, — which  Iberville  himself 
had  admitted  with  an  ironical  frankness, — he  was  also 
a  Frenchman.  It  was  at  this  point  that  Iberville  re- 
membered, also  with  something  of  irony,  the  words 
that  Jessica  had  used  that  afternoon  when  she  came 
out  of  the  sunshine  into  the  anteroom  of  the  gov- 
ernor's chamber.  She  had  waved  her  hand  into  the 
distance  and  had  said,  "Foolish  boy!"  He  knew 
very  well  that  that  part  of  the  game  was  turned 
against  him,  but  with  a  kind  of  cheerful  recklessness, 
as  was  ever  his  way  with  odds  against  him — and  he 
guessed  that  the  odds  were  with  Gering  in  the  matter 
of  Jessica, — he  bent  across  the  table  and  repeated 
them  with  an  exasperating  turn  to  his  imperfect  ac- 
cent. "  Foolish  boy ! "  he  said,  and  awaited,  not  for 
long,  the  event. 

"A  fool's  lie!"  retorted  Gering  in  a  low,  angry 
voice,  and  spilled  his  wine. 

At  that  Iberville's  heart  thumped  in  his  throat 
with  anger,  and  the  roof  of  his  mouth  became  dry ; 
never  in  his  life  had  he  been  called  a  liar.  The  first 
time  that  insult  strikes  a  youth  of  spirit  he  goes  a 
little  mad.     But  he  was  very  quiet — an  ominous  sort 


i 


1 


iO 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


Hi 


y- '  r' 


of  quietness,  even  in  a  boy.  lie  got  to  his  feet  and 
leaned  over  the  table,  speaking  in  words  that  dropped 
on  the  silence  like  metal:  "Monsieur,  there  is  but 
one  answer." 

At  this  point  Morris,  roused  from  his  elaborate 
musings,  caught,  not  very  clearly,  at  the  meaning  of 
it  all.  But  he  had  not  time  to  see  more,  for  just  then 
he  was  called  by  the  governor,  and  passed  into  the 
room  where  Mammon,  for  the  moment,  perched  like 
a  leering,  little  dwarf  upon  the  shoulders  of  adven- 
turous gentlemen  grown  avaricious  on  a  sudden. 

"Monsieur,  there  is  but  one  way.  Well?"  re- 
peated Iberville. 

"  I  am  ready,"  replied  Gering,  also  getting  to  his 
feet. 

The  Frenchman  was  at  once  alive  to  certain  diffi- 
culties. He  knew  that  an  envoy  should  not  fight, 
and  that  he  could  ask  no  one  to  stand  his  second; 
also  that  it  would  not  be  possible  to  arrange  a  formal 
duel  between  opposites  so  young  as  Gering  and  him- 
self. He  sketched  this  briefly,  and  the  Bostonian 
nodded  moody  assent. 

"  Come,  then,"  said  Iberville,  "  let  us  find  a  place. 
My  sword  is  at  my  hand.     Yours  ?  " 


THE  UPLIFTING  OF  THE  SWORDS. 


41 


"Mine  is  not  far  off,"  answered  Gering  sullenly. 

Iberville  forbore  to  point  a  moral,  but  walked  to 
the  mantle,  above  which  hung  two  swords  of  finest 
steel,  with  richly-chased  handles.  He  had  noted 
them  as  soon  as  he  had  entered  the  room.  "  By  the 
governor's  leave,"  he  said,  and  took  them  down. 
*•  Since  ve  are  to  ruffle  him,  let  him  furnish  the  spurs 
— eh  ?  Shall  we  use  these,  and  so  be  even  as  to 
weapons  ?  But  see,"  he  added,  with  a  burst  of  frank- 
ness,  "  I  am  in  a — a  trouble."  It  was  not  easy  on  the 
instant  to  find  the  English  word.  He  explained  the 
duties  of  his  mission.  It  was  singular  to  ask  his 
enemy  that  he  should  see  his  papers  handed  to  Count 
Frontenac  if  he  were  killed,  but  it  was  characteristic 
of  him. 

"  I  will  see  the  papers  delivered,"  said  Gering, 
with  equal  frankness. 

"  That  is,  if  by  some  miraculous  chance  I  should 
be  killed,"  added  Iberville.  "  But  I  have  other  ends 
in  view." 

"  I  have  only  onr  end  in  view,"  retorted  Gering. 
"  But  wait,"  he  said,  as  they  neared  the  door  leading 
into  the  main  hall ;  "  we  may  be  seen.  There  is  an- 
other way   into   the    groun'^s  through   a  little   hall 


42 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


here."  He  turned  and  opened  a  door  almost  as  small 
as  a  panel.  "  I  was  shown  this  secret  door  the  other 
day,  and  since  ours  is  a  secret  mission  let  us  use  it." 

"  Very  well.  But  a  minute  more,"  said  Iberville. 
He  went  and  unhooked  a  fine  brass  lantern,  of  old 
Dutch  workmanship,  swung  from  the  ceiling  by  a 
chain.    "  We  shall  need  a  light,"  he  remarked. 

They  passed  into  the  musty  little  hallway,  and 

Gering  with   some   difficulty  drew  back   the  bolts. 

•I 
The  door  creaked   open  and  they  stepped  out  into 

the  garden,  Iberville  leading  the  way.  He  had  not 
conned  his  surroundings  that  afternoon  for  nothing, 
and  when  they  had  reached  a  quiet  place  among  some 
firs  he  hung  the  lantern  to  the  branch  of  a  tree, 
opening  the  little  ornamental  door  so  that  the  light 
streamed  out.  There  was  not  much  of  it,  but  it 
would  serve,  and  without  a  word,  like  two  old  war- 
riors, they  took  off  their  coats. 

Meanwhile  Morris  had  returned  to  the  dining- 
room  to  find  Jessica  standing  agaze  there.  She  had 
just  come  in ;  for,  chancing  to  be  in  her  bed-chamber, 
which  was  just  over  the  secret  hallway,  she  had  heard 
Gering  shoot  the  bolts.  Now,  the  chamber  was  in  a 
corner,  so  that  the  window  faced  another  way,  but  the 


THE   UPLIFTING  OP  TIIK  SWORDS. 


48 


incident  scorned  strange  to  her,  "and  she  stood  for  a 
moment  listening.  Then  hearing  the  door  shut,  siio 
ran  down  the  stairs,  knocked  at  the  dining-room  door 
and,  getting  no  answer,  entered,  meeting  Morris  as  ho 
came  from  the  governor's  room. 

"  Morris,  Morris,"  she  said,  "  where  are  they  all  ?  " 

"  The  governor  is  in  his  room,  mistress. ' 

"Wlioare  with  him?" 

He  told  her. 

"Where  are  the  others? "she  urged.  "Mr.  Cor- 
ing and  Monsieur  Iberville — where  are  they  ?  " 

The  man's  eyes  had  flashed  to  the  place  where  the 
swords  were  used  to  hang.  "  Lord  God ! "  he  said 
under  his  breath. 

Her  eyes  had  followed  his.  She  ran  forward  to 
the  wall  and  threw  up  her  hands  against  it.  "0 
Morris,"  she  said  distractedly,  "  they  have  taken  the 
swords ! "  Then  she  went  past  him,  swiftly  through 
the  panel  and  the  outer  door.  She  glanced  around 
quickly,  running,  as  she  did  so,  with  a  kind  of  blind 
instinct  towards  the  clump  of  firs.  Presently  she  saw 
a  little  stream  of  light  in  the  trees.  Always  a  crea- 
ture of  abundant  energy  and  sprightliness,  she  swept 
through  the  night,  from  the  comedy  behind  to  the 


u 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


tragedy  in  front ;  the  gray  starlight  falling  about  her 
white  dress  and  making  her  hair  seem  like  a  cloud 
behind  her  as  she  ran.  Suddenly  she  came  in  on  the 
two  sworders  with  a  scared,  transfigured  face. 

Iberville  had  his  man  at  an  advantage,  and  was 
making  the  most  of  it  when  she  came  in  at  an  angle 
behind  the  other,  and  the  sight  of  her  stayed  his  arm. 
It  was  but  for  a  breath,  but  it  served.  Gering  had 
not  seen,  and  his  sword  ran  up  Iberville's  arm,  mak- 
ing a  little  tre/^ch  in  the  flesh. 

She  ran  in  on  them  from  the  gloom,  saying  in  a 
deep,  aching  voice,  "  Stop,  stop !  Oh,  what  mad- 
ness ! " 

The  points  dropped  and  they  stepped  back.  She 
stood  betwecTi  the  in,  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 
At  that  momeiit  Mc/ris  burst  in  also.  "In  God's 
name,"  he  said,  "  is  this  year  honouring  of  the  king's 
governor?  Ye  that  have  eat  and  drunk  at  his  table 
the  nicht !  Have  ye  nae  sense  o'  your  manhood, 
young  gentlemen,  that  for  a  mad  gossip  over  the  wine 
ye  wend  into  the  dark  to  cut  each  other's  throats  ? 
Think — think  shame,  baith  o'  ye,  being  as  ye  are  of 
them  that  should  know  better." 

Gering  moodily  put  on  his  coat  and  held   his 


mad- 


( 


THE  UPLIFTING  OF  THE  SWORDS. 


45 


peace.  Iberville  tossed  his  sword  aside,  and  presently 
wrung  the  blood  from  his  white  sleeve.  The  girl  saw 
him,  and  knew  that  he  was  wounded.  She  snatched 
a  scarf  from  her  waist  and  ran  towards  him.  "  You 
are  wounded ! "  she  said.    "  Oh,  take  this." 

"  I  am  so  much  sorry,  indeed,"  he  answered  coolly, 
winding  the  scarf  about  his  arm.  "  Mistress  Leveret 
came  too  soon." 

His  face  wore  a  peculiar  smile,  but  his  eyes  burned 
with  anger ;  his  voice  was  not  excited.  Immediately, 
however,  as  he  looked  at  Jessica,  his  mood  seemed  to 
change. 

"  Morris,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry.  Mademoiselle," 
he  added,  ''^pardon!  I  regret  whatever  gives  you 
pain." 

Gering  came  near  to  her,  and  Iberville  could  see 
that  a  flush  stole  over  Jessica's  face  as  he  took  her 
hand  and  said,  "  I  am  sorry — that  you  should  have 
known." 

"  Good  ! "  said  Iberville,  under  his  breath.  "  Good  ! 
he  is  worth  fighting  again." 

A  moment  afterwards  Morris  explained  to  them 
that  if  the  matter  could  be  hushed  he  would  not  im- 
part it  to  the  governor — at  least,  not  until  Iberville 


n 


! 


40 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


had  gone.  Then  they  all  started  back  towards  the 
house.  It  did  not  seem  incongruous  to  Iberville  and 
Gering  to  walk  side  by  side;  theirs  was  a  superior 
kind  of  hate.  TLey  paused  outside  the  door,  on 
Morris's  hint,  that  he  might  see  if  the  coast  was 
clear,  and  return  the  swords  to  their  place  on  the 
wall. 

Jessica  turned  in  the  doorway.  "I  shall  never 
forgive  you,"  she  said,  and  was  swallowed  by  the 
darkness. 

"  Which  does  she  mean  ?  "  asked  Iberville,  with  a 
touch  of  irony.    The  other  was  silent. 

In  a  moment  Morris  came  back  to  tell  them  that 
they  might  come,  for  the  dining-room  was  empty  still. 


1 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE   FRUITS   OF  THE   LAW. 


BucKLAW  having  convinced  the  governor  and  his 
friends  that  down  West  Indies  way  there  was  treasure 
for  the  finding,  was  told  that  he  might  come  again 
next  morning.  He  asked  if  it  might  not  be  late 
afternoon  instead,  because  he  had  cargo  from  the 
Indies  for  sale,  and  in  the  morning  certain  merchants 
were  to  visit  his  vessel.  Truth  to  tell  he  was  playing 
a  deep  game.  He  wanted  to  learn  the  governor's 
plans  for  the  next  afternoon  and  evening,  and  thought 
to  do  so  by  proposing  this  same  change.  He  did  not 
reckon  foolishly.  The  governor  gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  there  would  be  feasting  next  day:  first, 
because  it  was  the  birthday  of  the  Duke  of  York; 
secondly,  because  it  was  the  anniversary  of  the  cap- 
ture from  the  Dutch ;  and,  last  of  all,  because  there 
were  Indian  chiefs  to  come  from  Albany  to  see  New 
York  and  himself  for  the  first  time.     The  official 


is 


48 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


celebration  would  begin  in  the  afternoon  and  last 
till  sundown,  so  that  all  the  governor's  time  must  be 
fully  occupied.  But  Bucklaw  said,  with  great  can- 
dour, that  unfortunately  he  had  to  sail  for  Boston 
within  thirty-six  hours,  to  keep  engagements  with 
divers  assignees  for  whom  he  had  special  cargo.  If 
his  excellency,  he  said,  would  come  out  i  >  his  ship 
the  next  evening  when  the  shows  were  dene,  he  would 
be  proud  to  have  him  see  his  racketing  little  craft ; 
and  it  could  then  be  judged  if,  with  furbishing  and 
armaments,  she  could  by  any  means  be  used  for  the 
expedition.  Nicholls  consented,  and  asked  the  king's 
officers  if  they  would  accompany  him.  This  they 
were  exceedingly  glad  to  do :  so  that  the  honest  ship- 
man's  good  nature  and  politeness  were  vastly  in- 
creased, and  he  waved  his  hook  in  so  funny  and  so 
boyish  a  way  it  set  them  all  a-laughing. 

So  it  was  arranged  forthwith  that  he  should  be  at 
a  quiet  point  on  the  shore  at  a  certain  hour  to  row 
the  governor  and  his  friends  to  the  Kell  Gwynn. 
And,  this  done,  he  was  bade  to  go  to  the  dining-room 
and  refresh  himself. 

He  obeyed  with  cheerfulness  and  was  taken  in 
charge  by  Morris,  who,  having  passed  on  Iberville  and 


l^ 


THE  FRUITS  OF  THE  LAW. 


49 


' 


Gering  to  the  drawing-room,  was  once  more  at  his 
post  taciturn  as  ever.  The  governor  and  his  friends 
had  gone  straight  to  the  drawing-room,  so  that  Mor- 
ris and  he  were  alone.  Wine  was  set  before  the  sailor 
and  he  took  off  a  glass  with  gusto,  his  eye  cocked 
humorously  towards  his  host.  "No  worse  fate  for  a 
sinner,"  quoth  he ;  "  none  better  for  a  saint." 

Morris'  temper  was  not  amiable.  He  did  not  like 
the  rascal.  "  Ay,"  said  he,  "  but  many's  the  sinner 
has  wished  yon  wish,  and  footed  it  from  the  stocks  to 
the  gallows." 

Bucklaw  laughed  up  at  him.  It  was  not  a  pretty 
laugh,  and  his  eyes  were  insolent  and  hard.  But  that 
changed  almost  on  the  instant.  "  A  good  thrust, 
mighty  Scot,"  he  said.  "Now  what  say  you  to  a 
pasty,  or  a  strip  of  beef  cut  where  the  juice  runs,  and 
maybe  the  half  of  a  broiled  fowl  ?  " 

Morris,  imperturbably  deliberate,  left  the  room  to 
seek  the  kitchen.  Bucklaw  got  instantly  to  his  feet. 
His  eye  took  in  every  window  and  door,  and  ran  along 
the  ceiling  and  the  wall.  There  was  a  sudden  click 
in  the  wall  before  him.  It  was  the  door  leading  to 
the  unused  hallway,  which  had  not  been  properly 
closed  and  had  sprung  open.    He  caught  up  a  caudle, 


Hi 


60 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


ran  over,  entered  the  hallway,  and  gave  a  grunt  of 
satisfaction.  He  hastily  and  softly  drew  the  bolts  of 
the  outer  door,  so  that  any  one  might  come  in  from 
the  garden,  then  stepped  back  into  the  dining-room 
and  closed  the  panel  tight  behind  him,  remarking 
with  delight  that  it  had  no  spring-lock,  and  could  be 
opgned  from  the  hallway.  He  came  back  quickly  to 
the  table,  put  down  the  candle,  took  his  seat,  stroked 
his  chin  with  his  hook,  and  chuckled.  When  Morris 
came  back,  he  was  holding  his  wine  with  one  hand 
while  he  hummed  a  snatch  of  song  and  drummed 
lightly  on  the  table  with  the  hook.  Immediately 
after  came  a  servant  with  a  tray,  and  the  Scotsman 
was  soon  astonished,  not  only  at  the  bucksomeness  of 
his  appetite,  but  at  the  deftness  with  which  he  carved 
and  handled  things  with  what  he  called  his  "  tiger." 
And  so  he  went  on  talking  and  eating,  and  he  sat  so 
long  that  Jessica,  as  she  passed  into  the  corridor  and 
up  the  stairs,  wearied  by  the  day,  heard  his  voice 
uplifted  in  song.  It  so  worked  upon  her  that  she 
put  her  hands  to  her  ears,  hurried  to  her  room,  and 
threw  herself  upon  the  bed  in  a  distress  she  could  set 
down  to  no  real  cause. 

Before  the  governor  and  his  guests  parted  for  the 


THE  FRUITS  OF  THE  LAW. 


51 


>» 


the 


night,  Iberville,  as  he  made  his  adieus  to  Gering,  said 
in  a  low  voice,  "  The  same  place  and  time  to-morrow 
night,  and  on  the  same  conditions?" 

"  I  shall  be  happy,"  said  Gering,  and  they  bowed 
with  great  formality. 

The  governor  had  chanced  to  hear  a  word  or  two 
and,  thinking  it  was  some  game  of  which  they  spoke, 
said,  "  Piquet  or  a  game  of  wits,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"Neither,  your  excellency,"  quoth  Gering,  "a 
game  called  fox  and  goose." 

"  Good,"  said  Iberville,  under  his  breath ;  "  my 
Puritan  is  waking." 

The  governor  was  in  ripe  humour.  "  But  it  is  a 
game  of  wits,  then,  after  all.  Upon  my  soul,  you  two 
should  fence  like  a  pair  of  veterans." 

"  Only  for  a  pass  or  two,"  said  Iberville  dryly, 
"  We  cannot  keep  it  up." 

All  this  while  a  boat  was  rowing  swiftly  from  the 
shore  of  the  island  towards  a  craft  carrying  Nell 
Gwynn  beneath  the  curious,  antique  figure-head. 
There  were  two  men  in  her,  and  they  were  talking 
gloatingly  and  low. 

"  See,  bully,  how  I  have  the  whole  thing  in  my 
hands.      Ha!      Received  by  the  governor  and    his 


j 
i 

ll! 


h   1! 


52 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


friends  !  They  are  all  mad  for  the  doubloons,  which 
are  not  for  them,  my  Radisson,  but  for  you  and  me, 
and  for  a  greater  than  Colonel  Richard  NichoUs. 
Ho,  ho!  I  know  him — the  man  who  shall  lead  the 
hunt  and  find  the  gold — the  only  man  in  all  that 
cursed  Boston  whose  heart  I  would  not  eat  raw,  so 
help  me  Judas !  And  his  name — no.  That  is  to 
come.     I  will  make  him  great." 

Again  he  chuckled.  "  Over  in  Londo^  they  shall 
take  him  to  their  bosoms.  Over  in  London  his 
blessed  majesty  shall  dub  him  knight— treasure-trove 
is  a  fine  reason  for  the  touch  of  a  royal  sword — and 
the  king  shall  say :  *  Rise,  Sir  William.'  No,  it  is  not 
time  for  the  name  ;  but  it  is  not  Richard  Nicholls,  it 
is  not  Hogarth  Leveret."  He  laughed  like  a  boy. 
"  I  have  you,  Hogarth  Leveret,  in  my  hand,  and  by 
God  I  will  squeeze  you  until  there  is  a  drop  of  heart's 
blood  at  every  pore  of  your  skin !  " 

Now  and  again  Radisson  looked  sideways  at  him,  a 
sardonic  smile  at  his  lip.  At  last,  "5/ew,"  he  said,  "  you 
are  merry !  So,  I  shall  be  merry  too,  for  I  have  scores 
to  wipe  away,  and  they  shall  be  wiped  clean — clean." 

"  You  are  with  me,  then,"  the  pirate  asked ;  "  even 
as  to  the  girl?" 


THE  FRUITS  OF  THE  LAW. 


53 


sven 


"  Even  as  to  the  girl,"  was  the  reply,  with  a  hnital 
oath. 

"  That  is  good,  that  is  good.  Blood  of  my  soul,  I 
have  waited  twelve  years — twelve  years." 

"  You  have  not  told  me,"  rejoined  the  French- 
man ;  "  speak  now." 

"  There  is  not  much  to  tell,  but  we  are  to  be  part- 
ners once  and  for  all.  See,  my  beauty.  lie  was  a 
kite-livered  captain.  There  was  gold  on  board.  We 
mutinied  and  put  him  and  four  others  (their  livers 
were  like  his  own)  in  a  boat  with  provisions  plenty. 
Then  we  sailed  for  Boston.  We  never  thought  the 
crew  of  skulkers  would  reach  land,  but  by  God  they 
drifted  in  again  the  very  hour  we  found  port.  We 
were  taken  and  condemned.  First,  I  was  put  into 
the  stocks,  hands  and  feet,  till  I  was  fit  for  the 
pillory ;  from  the  pillory  to  the  wooden  horse."  Here 
he  laughed,  and  the  laugh  was  soft  and  womanlike. 
"  Then  the  whipping-post,  when  I  was  made  pulp 
from  my  neck  to  my  loins.  After  that  I  was  to  hang. 
I  was  the  only  one  they  cooked  so ;  the  rest  were  to 
hang  raw.  I  did  not  hang ;  I  broke  prison  and  ran. 
For  years  I  was  a  slave  among  the  Spaniards.  Years 
more — in  all,  twelve^and  then  I  came  back  with  the 


.*  II 


54 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


I    i 


littlo  cliart  for  ono  thing,  this  to  do  for  another. 
Who  was  it  g£.ve  mo  that  rogues'  march  from  the 
stocks  to  the  gallows'  foot?  It  was  Hogarth  Leveret, 
who  deals  out  law  in  Massacb'v.etts  in  the  king's 
name,  by  the  grace  of  God.  It  was  my  whim  to  cap- 
ture him  and  take  him  on  a  journey — such  a  journey 
as  he  would  go  but  once.  Blood  of  my  soul,  the  dear 
lad  waf?  gone.  But  there  was  his  child.  See  this ; 
when  I  stood  in  the  pillory  a  maid  one  day  brought 
the  child  to  the  foot  of  the  platform,  lifted  it  up  in 
her  arms  and  said,  '  Your  father  put  that  villain 
there.'  That  woman  was  sister  to  one  of  the  dogs 
we'd  set  adrift.  The  child  stared  at  me  hard,  and  I 
looked  at  her,  though  my  eyes  were  a  little  the  worse 
for  wear,  so  that  she  cried  out  in  great  fright — the 
sweet  innocent !  and  then  the  wench  took  her  away. 
When  she  saw  my  face  to-night — to-day — it  sent  her 
wild,  but  she  did  not  remember."  He  rubbed  his 
chin  in  ecstasy  and  drummed  his  knee.  "  Ha !  I  can- 
not have  the  father — so  I'll  have  the  goodly  child, 
and  great  will  be  the  ransom.  Great  will  be  the  ran- 
som, my  Frenchman ! "  And  once  more  he  tapped 
Radisson  with  the  "  tiger.'* 


CHAPTER   VI. 


THE    KIDNAPPING. 


The  rejoicing  had  reached  its  apogee,  and  was  on 
the  wane.  The  Puritan  had  stretched  his  austereness 
to  the  point  of  levity;  the  Dutchman  had  comfort- 
ably sweated  his  obedience  and  content ;  the  Cavalier 
had  paced  it  with  a  pretty  air  of  patronage  and  an 
eye  for  matron  and  maid;  the  Indian,  come  from  his 
far  hunting  grounds,  bivouacked  in  the  governor's 
presence  as  the  pipe  of  peace  went  round. 

About  twilight  the  governor  and  his  party  had 
gone  home.  Deep  in  ceremonial  as  he  had  been,  his 
mind  had  run  upon  Bucklaw  and  the  Spaniard's 
country.  So,  when  the  dusk  was  growing  into  night, 
the  hour  came  for  his  visit  to  the  Nell  Gwyun.  With 
his  two  soldier  friends  and  Councillor  Drayton,  he 
sta/ted  by  a  roundabout  for  the  point  where  he 
looked  to  find  Bucklaw.  Bucklaw  was  not  there : 
he   h  .d    other    fish    to    fry,   and    the    ship's    lights 

5  (55) 


50 


TIIK  TRAIL  OF  THK  SWORD. 


wcro  gone.  She  Imd  changed  her  ancliorage  since 
afternoon. 

"  It's  a  bold  scliome,"  Bucklavv  was  saying  to  liis 
fellow-rufliau  in  the  governor's  garden,  "  and  it  may 
fail,  yet  'twill  go  hard,  but  we'll  save  our  skins.  No 
pluck,  no  pence.  Once  again,  here's  the  trick  of  it. 
I'll  go  in  by  the  side-door  I  unlocked  last  night,  hide 
in  the  hallway,  then  enter  the  house  quietly  or  boldly, 
as  the  case  may  be.  Plan  one :  a  message  from  his 
excellency  to  Miss  Leveret,  that  he  wishes  her  to  join 
him  on  the  Nell  Gwyim.  Once  outside  it's  all  right. 
She  cannot  escape  us.  We  have  our  cloaks  and  we 
have  the  Spanish  drug.  Plan  two :  make  her  ours 
in  the  house.  Out  by  this  hall-door — through  the 
grounds — to  the  bet-ch — the  boat  in  waiting — and  so, 
up  anchor  and  av/ay !  Both  risky,  as  you  see,  but  the 
bolder  the  game  the  sweeter  the  spoil!  You're  sure 
her  chamber  is  above  that  hallway,  and  there's  a  stair- 
case to  it  from  the  main-hall  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  well  sure.  I  know  the  house  upstairs 
and  down." 

Bucklaw  looked  to  his  arms.  He  was  about  start- 
ing on  his  quest  when  they  heard  footsteps,  and  two 
figures  appeared.     It  was  Iberville  and  Gering.    They 


3  Since 

to  his 
it  may 
18.     No 
i  of  it. 
it,  liido 
boldly, 
•om  his 
to  join 
11  right, 
and  we 
er  onrs 
gh  the 
and  so, 
but  the 
re  sure 
a  stair- 

ipstairs 

t  start- 
,nd  two 
They 


THE  KIDNAPPINO. 


67 


paused  a  moment  not  far  from  where  the  rogues  were 
hid. 

"  I  think  you  will  agree,"  said  Iberville,  "  that  we 
must  fight." 

*'  I  have  no  other  mind." 

"  You  will  also  be  glad  if  we  are  not  come  upon  as 
last  night;  though,  confess,  the  lady  gave  you  a  lease 
of  life?" 

"  If  she  comes  to-night,  I  hope  it  will  be  \vhen  I 
have  done  with  you,"  answered  Gering. 

Iberville  laughed  a  little,  and  the  laugh  had  fire 
in  it — hatred,  and  the  joy  of  battle.     "  Shall  it  be 
here  or  yonder  in  the  pines,  where  we  were  in  train 
last  night?" 
.      "Yonder." 

"  So."    Then  Iberville  hummed  ironically  a  song— 

♦♦  Oh.  bury  me  where  I  liave  fought  and  fallen, 
your  scarf  across  my  shoulder,  lady  mine  I " 

They  passed  on.  "The  game  is  in  our  hands," 
said  Bucklaw.  "  I  understand  this  thing.  That's  a 
pair  of  gallant  young  sprigs,  but  tl.\e  choice  is  your 
Frenchman.  Kadisson." 

"  I'll  pink  his  breast-bone  full  of  holes  if  the  other 
doesn't — curse  him ! " 


'.'f 


p 


58 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


A  sweet  laugh  trickled  from  Bucklaw's  lips  like 
oil.  "  That's  neither  here  nor  there.  I'd  like  to 
have  him  down  Acapulco  way,  dear  lad.  .  .  .  And 
now,  here's  my  plan  all  changed.  Ha !  I'll  have  my 
young  lady  out  to  stop  the  duel,  and,  God's  love,  she'll 
come  alone.  Once  here  she's  ours,  and  they  may  cut 
each  other's  throats  as  tliey  will,  sweetheart !  " 

He  crossed  the  yard,  tried  the  door — unlocked,  as 
he  had  left  it— pushed  it  open,  and  went  in,  groping 
his  way  to  the  door  of  the  dining-room.  He  listened. 
There  was  no  sound.  Then  he  heard  someone  go  in. 
He  listened  again.  Whoever  it  was  had  sat  down.  Very 
carefully  he  felt  for  the  spring  and  opened  the  door. 

Jessica  was  seated  at  the  table  with  paper  and  an 
ink-horn  before  her.  She  was  writing.  She  stopped 
— the  pen  was  bad.  She  got  up  and  went  away  to  her 
room.  Instantly  Bucklaw  laid  his  plan.  He  entered 
as  she  disappeared,  went  to  the  table  and  looked  at 
the  paper  on  which  she  had  been  writing.  It  bore  but 
the  words,  "  Dear  Friend."  He  caught  up  the  quill 
and  wrote  hurriedly  beneath  them,  this — 

*'  If  you'' d  see  two  gentlemen  fighting^  go  now  where 
you  stopped  them  last  night.  The  wrong  one  may  he 
killed  unless.''^ 


THE  KIDNAPPING. 


59 


With  a  quick  flash  of  malice  he  signed,  in  lialf  a 
dozen  lightning-like  strokes,  with  a  sketch  of  his 
hook.  Then  he  turned,  hurried  into  the  little  hall, 
and  so  outside,  and  posted  himself  beside  a  lilac  bush, 
drawing  down  a  bunch  of  the  flowers  to  drink  in  their 
perfume.  Jessica,  returning,  went  straight  to  the 
table.  Before  she  sat  down  she  looked  up  to  the 
mantle,  but  the  swords  were  there.  She  sighed,  and 
a  tear  glistened  on  her  eyelashes.  She  brushed  it 
away  with  her  dainty  finger-tips  and,  as  she  sat  down, 
saw  the  paper.  She  turned  pale,  caught  it  up,  read  it 
with  a  little  cry,  and  let  it  drop  with  a  shudder  of  fear 
and  dismay.  She  looked  round  the  room.  Every- 
thing was  as  she  had  left  it.  She  was  dazed.  She 
stared  at  the  paper  again,  then  ran  and  opened  the 
door  througn  which  Bucklaw  had  passed.  She  found 
the  outer  door  ajar.  With  a  soft,  gasping  moan  she 
passed  into  the  garden,  went  swiftly  by  the  lilac  bush 
and  on  towards  the  trees.  Bucklaw  let  her  do  so ;  it 
was  his  design  that  she  should  be  some  way  from  the 
house.  But,  hidden  by  the  bushes,  he  was  running 
almost  parallel  with  her.  On  the  other  side  of  her 
was  Radisson,  also  running.  She  presently  heard  him 
and  swerved,  poor  child,  into  the  gin  of  the  fowler ! 


60 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


But  as  the  cloak  was  thrown  over  her  head  she  gave 
a  cry. 

The  firs,  where  Iberville  and  Gering  had  just 
plucked  out  their  swords,  were  not  far,  and  both  men 
heard.  Gering,  who  best  knew  the  voice,  said  hur- 
riedly, "  It  is  Jessica !  " 

Without  a  word  Iberville  leaped  to  the  open,  and 
came  into  it  ahead  of  Gering.  '  They  saw  the  kidnap- 
pers and  ran.  Iberville  was  the  first  to  find  what 
Bucklaw  was  carrying.  "  Mother  of  God  !  "  he  cried, 
"  they're  taking  her  off ! " 

"  Help !  help ! "  cried  Gering,  and  they  pushed 
on.  The  two  ruffians  were  running  hard,  but  it 
had  been  an  unequal  race  at  the  best,  and  Jessi- 
ca lay  unconscious  in  Bucklaw's  arms,  a  dead 
weight.  Presently  they  plunged  into  the  bushes  and 
disappeared.  Iberville  and  Gering  passed  through 
the  bushes  also,  but  could  neither  see  nor  hear  the 
quarry.  Gering  was  wild  with  excitement  and  lost 
his  presence  of  mind.  Meanwhile  Iberville  went 
beating  for  a  clue.  He  guessed  that  he  was  dealing 
with  good  woodsmen,  and  that  the  kidnappers  knew 
some  secret  way  out  of  the  garden.  It  was  so.  The 
Dutch  governor  had  begun  to  build  an  old-fashioned 


THE  KIDNAPPING. 


61 


wall  with  a  narrow  gateway,  so  fitted  as  to  seem  part 
of  it.     Through  this  the  two  had  vanished. 

Iberville  was  almost  in  despair.  "  Go  back,"  he 
suddenly  said  to  Gering,  "and  rouse  the  house  and 
the  town.     I  will  get  on  the  trail  again  if  I  can." 

Gering  started  away.  In  this  strange  excitement 
their  own  foolish  quarrel  was  forgotten,  and  the 
stranger  took  on  himself  to  command;  he  was,  at 
least,  not  inexperienced  in  adventure  and  the  wiles  of 
desperate  men.  All  at  once  he  came  upon  the  wall. 
He  ran  along  it,  and  presently  his  fingers  felt  the 
passage.  An  instant  and  he  was  outside  and  making 
for  the  shore,  in  the  sure  knowledge  that  the  ruffians 
would  take  to  the  water.  He  thought  of  Bucklaw 
and  by  some  impossible  instinct  divined  the  presence 
of  his  hand.  Suddenly  he  saw  something  flash  on 
the  ground.  He  stooped  and  picked  it  up.  It  was  a 
shoe  with  a  silver  buckle.  He  thrilled  to  the  finger- 
tips as  he  thrust  it  in  his  bosom  and  pushed  on.  He 
was  on  the  trail  now.  In  a  few  moments  he  came  to 
the  waterside.  He  looked  to  where  he  had  seen  the 
Nell  Gtvynn  in  the  morning,  and  there  was  never  a 
light  in  view.  Then  a  twig  snapped  and  Bucklaw, 
the  girl  in  his  arms,  came  bundling  out  of  the  tree^ 


62 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


1,' 


'  1 

■:     i 


I 


upon  the  bank.     lie  had  sent  Radisson  on  ahead  to 
warn  his  boat's  crew. 

lie  saw  Iberville  as  soon  as  Iberville  saw  him.  He 
knew  that  the  town  would  be  roused,  and  the  gov- 
ernor by  this  time  on  fire  for  revenge.  But  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  fighi;.  He  did  not  fear  the  result. 
Time  was  life  to  him,  and  he  swung  the  girl  half 
behind  him  with  his  hook-hand  as  Iberville  came  on, 
and,  whipping  out  his  hanger,  caught  the  French- 
man's thrust.  Instantly  e  saw  that  his  opposite  was 
a  swordsman,  so  he  let  the  girl  slip  to  the  ground,  and 
suddenly  closing  with  Iberville,  lunged  desperately 
and  expertly  at  him,  straight  for  a  mortal  part.  But 
the  Frenchman  was  too  agile  and  adroit  for  him  :  he 
took  the  thrust  in  the  flesh  of  his  ribs  and  riposted 
like  lightning.  The  pirate  staggered  back,  but  pulled 
himself  together  instantly,  lunged,  and  took  his  man 
in  the  flesh  of  his  upper  sword  arm.  Iberville  wis 
bleeding  from  the  wound  in  his  side  and  slightly  stiff 
from  the  slash  of  the  night  before,  but  every  fibre  of 
his  hurt  body  was  on  the  defensive.  Bucklaw  knew 
it,  and  seemed  to  debate  if  the  game  were  worth  the 
candle.  The  town  was  afoot,  and  he  had  earned  a 
halter  for  his  pains.     He  was  by  no  means  certain 


THE  KIDNAPPING. 


63 


that  he  could  kill  this  champion  and  carry  off  the 
girl.  Moroover,  he  did  not  want  Iberville's  life,  for 
such  devils  have  their  likes  and  dislikes,  and  he  had 
fancied  the  chivalrous  youngster  from  the  first.  But 
he  doubted  only  for  an  instant.  What  was  such  a 
lad's  life  compared  with  his  revenge?  It  was  mad- 
ness, as  he  knew,  for  a  shot  would  guide  the  pursuit : 
none  the  less  did  he  draw  a  pistol  from  his  belt  and 
fire.  The  bullet  graze-  the  lad's  temple,  carrying 
away  a  bit  of  his  hair.  Iberville  staggered  forward, 
so  weak  was  he  from  loss  of  blood,  and,  with  a  deep 
instinct  of  protection  and  preservation,  fell  at  Jessica's 
feet.  There  was  a  sound  of  footsteps  and  crackling 
of  brush.  Bucklaw  stooped  to  pick  up  his  prey,  but  a 
man  burst  on  him  from  the  trees.  He  saw  that  the 
game  was  up  and  he  half  raised  his  knife,  but  that 
was  only  the  mad  rage  of  the  instant.  His  revenge 
did  not  comprise  so  unheard-of  a  crime.  He  thought 
he  had  killed  Iberville :  that  was  enough.  He  sprang 
away  towards  the  spot  where  his  comrades  awaited 
him.  Escape  was  his  sole  ambition  now.  The  new- 
comer ran  forward,  and  saw  the  boy  and  girl  lying  as 
they  were  dead.  A  swift  glance  at  Iberville,  and  he 
slung  his  musket  shoulderwards  and   fired    at    the 


i 


il  1 


■1 


64 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


l!     1* 


^       I 

8  ' 


retreating  figure.  It  was  a  chance  shot,  for  the  light 
was  bad  and  Bucklaw  was  already  indistinct. 

Now  the  man  dropped  on  his  knee  and  felt  Iber- 
ville's heart.  "Alive!"  he  said.  "Alive,  thank  the 
mother  of  God !  Mon  brave!  It  is  ever  the  same — 
the  great  father,  the  great  son  ! " 

As  he  withdrew  his  hand  it  brushed  against  the 
slipper.  He  took  it  out,  glanced  at  it,  and  turned  to 
the  cloaked  figure,  lie  undid  the  cloak  and  saw  Jes- 
sica's pale  face.  He  shook  his  head.  "Always  the 
same,"  he  said,  "  always  the  same :  for  a  king,  for  a 
friend,  for  a  woman !    That  is  the  Le  Moyne." 

But  he  was  busy  as  he  spoke.  With  the  native 
chivalry  of  the  woodsman,  he  cared  first  for  the  girl. 
Between  her  lips  he  thrust  his  drinking-horn  and 
held  her  head  against  his  shoulder. 

"  My  little  ma'm'selle  !  ma'm'selle  !  "  he  said. 
"Wake  up.  It  is  nothing — you  are  safe.  Ah,  the 
sweet  lady !  Come,  let  me  see  the  colour  of  your  eyes. 
Wake  up — it  is  nothing." 

Presently  the  girl  did  open  her  eyes.  He  put  the 
drinking-horn  again  to  her  lips.  She  shuddered  and 
took  a  sip,  and  then,  invigorated,  suddenly  drew  away 
from  him.    "  There,  there^"  he  said ;  "  it  is  all  right. 


THE  KIDNAPPING. 


65 


Now  for  my  poor  Iberville."  He  took  Iberville's  head 
to  his  knee  and  thrust  the  drinking-horn  between  his 
teeth,  as  he  had  done  with  Jessica,  calling  him  in 
much  the  same  fashion.  Iberville  came  to  with  a 
start.  For  a  moment  he  stared  blindly  at  his  rescuer, 
then  a  glad  intelligence  flashed  into  his  eyes. 

"  Perrot !  dear  Nick  Perrot ! "  he  cried.  "  Oh, 
good — good,"  he  added  softly.  Then  with  sudden 
anxiety — "  Where  is  she  ?    Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  I  am  safe,  monsieur,"  said  Jessica  gently ;  "  but 
you — you  are  wounded."  She  came  over  and  dropped 
on  her  knees  beside  him. 

"  A  little,"  he  said ;  "  only  a  little.  You  cared  for 
her  first  ?  "  he  asked  of  Perrot. 

Perrot  chuckled.  "  These  Le  Moynes ! "  he  said 
under  his  breath.    Then  aloud,  "  The  lady  first,  mon- 


>» 


sieur. 

"  So,"  answered  Iberville.  "  And  Bucklaw,  the 
devil,  Bucklaw  ?  " 

"  If  you  mean  the  rogue  who  gave  you  these,"  said 
Perrot,  touching  the  wounds,  which  he  had  already 
begun  to  bind,  "  I  think  he  got  away — the  light  was 
bad." 

Jessica  would  have  torn  her  frock  for  a  bandage, 


m 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


I 


but  Perrot  said  in  liis  broken  English,  "  No,  pardon. 
Not  so.     The  cloak  Idbas  will  do." 

She  ran  and  brought  it  to  him.  As  she  did  so 
Perrot  glanced  down  at  her  feet,  and  then,  with  a 
touch  of  humour,  said,  "  Pardon ;  but  you  have  lost 
your  slipper,  ma'm'selle  ?  " 

He  foroRan  the  little  comedy,  which  he  could  en- 
joy even  in    :ch  j^  ainful  circumstances. 

"  It  must  have  cii'opped  off,"  said  Jessica,  blush- 
ing.    "  Bat  it  does  not  matter." 

Iberville  blushed  too,  but  a  smile  also  flitted  across 
his  lips.  "  If  you  will  but  put  your  hand  into  my 
waistcoat  here,"  he  said  to  her,  "you  will  find  it." 
Timidly  she  did  as  she  was  bid,  drew  forth  the  slip- 
per, and  put  it  on. 

"  You  see,"  said  Iberville,  still  faint  from  loss  of 
blood,  "  a  Frenchman  can  fight  and  hunt  too— hunt 
the  slipper." 

Suddenly  a  look  of  pain  crossed  her  face. 

"Mr.  Gering,  you — you  did  not  kill  him?"  she 
asked. 

"Oh,  no,  mademoiselle,"  said  Iberville;  "you 
stopped  the  game  again." 

Presently  he   told  her  what  had  happened,  and 


THE  KIDNAPPING. 


67 


how  Gering  was  rousing  the  town.  Then  he  insisted 
upon  getting  on  his  feet,  that  they  might  make  their 
way  to  the  governor'y  house.  Staunclily  he  struggled 
on,  his  weight  upon  Perrot,  till  presently  he  leaned  a 
hand  also  on  Jessica's  shoulder — she  had  insisted. 
On  the  way  Perrot  told  how  it  was  he  chanced  to  he 
there.  A  hand  of  coureurs  ile  buis,  bound  for  Que- 
bec, had  come  upon  old  Le  Moyne  and  himself  in 
the  woods.  Le  Moyne  had  gone  or  .vi^h  these  men, 
while  Perrot  pushed  on  to  New  Yo  k,  rrriving  at  the 
very  moment  of  the  kidnapping,  lie  heard  the  cry 
and  made  towards  it.  He  had  •^let  Gering,  and  the 
rest  they  knew. 

Certain  things  did  not  liappen.  The  governor  of 
New  York  did  not  at  once  engage  in  an  expedition 
to  the  Spaniard's  country.  A  brave  pursuit  vas 
made,  but  Bucklaw  went  uncaptured.  Iberville  and 
Gering  did  not  make  a  third  attempt  to  fight ;  Per- 
rot prevented  that.  Iberville  left,  however,  with  a 
knowledge  of  three  things :  that  he  was  the  first 
Frenchman  from  Quebec  who  had  been,  or  was  likely 
to  be,  popular  in  New  York;  that  Jessica  Leveret 
had  shown  a  tender  gratitude  towards  him — naive, 
candid — which  set  him  dreaming  gaily  of  the  future  ; 


63 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


that  Goring  and  he,  in  spito  of  outward  courtesy,  were 
still  enemies ;  for  Gering  could  not  forget  that,  in  the 
rescue  of  Jessica,  Iberville  had  done  the  work  while 
he  merely  played  the  crier. 

"  We  shall  meet  again,  monsieur,"  said  Iberville  at 
last ;  "  at  least,  1  hope  so." 

"  I  shall  be  glad,"  answered  Gering  mechanically. 

"  But  'tis  like  1  shall  come  to  you  before  you  come 
to  me,"  added  Iberville,  with  meaning.  Jessica  Lev- 
eret was  standing  not  far  away,  and  Gering  did  not 
instantly  reply.  In  the  pause,  Iberville  said,  ^^  Au 
revoir !  A  la  bonne  hettre!"  and  walked  away. 
Presently  he  turned  with  a  little,  ironical  laugh  and 
waved  his  hand  at  Gering;  and  laugh  i;nd  gesture 
rankled  in  Gering  for  many  a  day. 


(ffpocl)  t\)e  Scconb. 


CHAPTER    VII. 


FRIENDS   IN   COUNCIL. 


Montreal  and  Quebec,  dear  to  the  fortunes  of 
such  men  as  Iberville,  were  a?  cheerful  in  the  still 
iron  winter  as  any  city  under  any  more  cordial  sky 
then  or  now  :  men  loved,  hated,  made  and  broke 
bargains,  lied  to  women,  kept  a  foolish  honour 
with  each  other,  and  did  deeds  of  valour  for  a  song 
as  ever  they  did  from  the  beginning  of  the  world. 
Through  the  stern  soul  of  Nature  ran  the  tempera- 
ment of  men  who  had  hearts  of  summer  ;  and  if  on  a 
certain  notable  day  in  Iberville's  life,  one  could  have 
looked  through  the  window  of  a  low  stone  house  in 
Notre  Dame  Street,  Montreal,  one  could  have  seen  a 
priest  joyously  playing  a  violin ;  though  even  in 
Europe,   Maggini   and    Stradivarius   were    but  little 

(G9) 


70 


TiiK  TRAIL  OP  tup:  sword. 


I 


1 


known,  and  tho  instrument  itself  was  often  called  an 
invention  of  the  devil. 

The  room  was  not  ornamented,  save  by  a  crucifix, 
a  pleasant  pencil-drav/ing  of  Bishop  Laval,  a  gun,  a 
pair  of  snow-shoes,  a  sword,  and  a  little  shrine  in  one 
corner,  wherein  were  relics  of  a  saint.  Of  necessaries 
even  there  were  few.  They  were  unremarkable,  save 
in  the  case  of  two  tall  silver  candlesticks,  which,  with 
their  candles  at  an  angle  from  the  musician,  gave  his 
face  strange  lights  and  shadows. 

The  priest  was  powerfully  made ;  so  powerful  in- 
deed, so  tall  was  he,  that  when,  in  one  of  the  changes 
of  the  music,  a  kind  of  exaltation  filled  him,  and  he 
came  to  his  feet,  his  head  almost  touched  the  ceiling. 
His  shoulders  were  broad  and  strong,  and  though  his 
limbs  were  hid  by  his  cassock,  his  arms  showed  almost 
huge  and  the  violin  lay  tucked  under  his  chin  like  a 
mere  toy.  In  the  eye  was  a  penetrating  but  abstrpcted 
look,  and  the  countenance  had  the  gravity  of  a  priest 
lighted  by  a  cheerful  soul  within.  It  had  been  said 
of  Dollier  de  Casson  that  once,  attacked  by  two  rene- 
gade Frenchman,  he  had  broken  the  leg  of  one  and 
the  back  of  the  other,  and  had  then  picked  them  up 
and  carried  them  for  miles  to  shelter  and  nursing. 


FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIL. 


n 


And  it  was  also  declared  by  the  romantic  that  the 
man  with  the  broken  back  recovered,  wliile  he  with 
the  shattered  leg,  recovering  also,  found  that  his 
foot,  pointing  backward,  "  made  a  fool  of  his  nose." 

The  Abbe  de  Casson's  life  had  one  affection,  which 
had  taken  the  place  of  others,  now  almost  lost  in  the 
distance  of  youth,  absence,  and  indifference.  For 
France  lay  far  from  Montreal,  and  the  priest-musician 
was  infinitely  farther  off  :  the  miles  which  the  Church 
measures  between  the  priest  and  his  lay  boyhood  are 
not  easily  reckoned.  But  such  as  Dollier  de  Cassou 
must  have  a  field  for  affection  to  enrich.  You  cannot 
drive  the  sap  of  the  tree  in  upon  itself.  It  must  come 
out  or  the  tree  must  die — burst  with  the  very  misery 
of  its  richness. 

This  night  he  was  crowding  into  the  music  four 
years  of  events  ;  of  memory,  hope,  pride,  patience  and 
affection.  He  was  waiting  for  someone  whom  he  had 
not  seen  for  these  four  years.  Time  passed.  More 
and  more  did  the  broad  sonorous  notes  fill  the  room. 
At  length  they  ceased,  and  with  a  sigh  he  pressed  the 
violin  once,  twice,  thrice  to  his  lips. 

"  My  good   Stradivarius,"  he  said,  "  my  fearless 

one  I " 

6 


72 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


k 


ii 


,<•  i  I  •'! 


Once  again  he  kissed  it,  and  then,  drawing  his 
hand  across  his  eyes,  he  slowly  wrapped  the  violin  in 
a  velvet  cloth,  put  it  away  in  an  iron  box,  and  locked 
it  up.  But  presently  he  changed  his  mind,  took  it 
out  again,  aiid  pat  it  on  the  table,  shaking  his  head 
musingly. 

"  He  will  wish  to  see  it,  maybe  to  hear  it,"  ho  said 
hhlt  alcud. 

Then  he  turned  and  went  into  another  room. 
Here  there  was  a  prie-dieu  in  a  corner,  and  above  it  a 
crucifix.     He  knelt  and  was  soon  absorbed. 

For  a  time  there  was  silence.  At  last  there  was  a 
cruncliing  of  moccasined  feet  upon  the  crisp  snow, 
then  a  slight  tap  at  the  outer  door,  and  immediately 
it  was  opened.  A  stalwart  young  man  stepped  inside. 
He  looked  round,  pleased,  astonished.  He  glanced  at 
the  violin,  then  meaningly  towards  the  nearly  closed 
door  of  the  other  room.  Then  he  pulled  off  his 
gloves,  threw  his  cap  down,  and  with  a  significant  toss 
of  the  head,  picked  up  the  violin. 

He  was  a  strong,  handsome  man  of  about  twenty- 
two,  with  a  face  at  once  open  and  inscrutable :  the 
mouth  with  a  trick  of  smiling,  the  eyes  fearless,  con- 
vincing, but  having  at  the  same  time  a  look  behind 


» 


i 


FRIENDS  IN   COUNCIL. 


78 


|nty- 

the 

pon- 

liind 


this — an  tilert,  profound  speculation,  which  gave  his 
face  singular  force.  He  was  not  so  tall  as  the  priest 
in  the  next  room,  but  still  he  was  very  tall,  and  every 
movement  had  a  lithe  supple  strength.  His  body  was 
so  firm  that,  as  he  bent  or  turned,  it  seemed  as  of  soft 
flexible  metal. 

Despite  his  fine  manliness,  he  looked  very  boylike 
as  he  picked  up  the  violin,  and  with  a  silent  eager 
laugh  put  it  under  his  chin,  nodding  gaily,  as  he  did 
so,  towards  the  other  room.  He  bent  Lis  cheek  to 
the  instrument — almost  as  brown  as  the  wood  itself — 
and  made  a  pass  or  two  in  the  air  with  the  bow,  as  if 
to  recall  a  former  touch  and  tune.  A  satisfied  look 
shot  up  in  his  face,  and  then  with  an  almost  impossi- 
ble softness  he  drew  the  bow  across  the  strings,  get- 
ting a  distant  delicate  note,  which  seemed  to  float  and 
tenderly  multiply  upon  itself — a  variation,  indeed,  of 
the  tune  which  De  Casson  had  played.  A  rapt  look 
came  into  his  eyes.  And  all  that  look  behind  the 
general  look  of  his  face — the  look  which  has  to  do 
with  a  man's  past  or  future — deepened  and  spread, 
till  you  saw,  for  once  in  a  way,  a  strong  soldier  turned 
artist,  yet  only  what  was  masculine  and  strong.  Tl:  e 
music  deepened  also  and  as  the  priest  opened  the  door 


!'  1 


y 


I 


■''I 


74 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


swept  against  him  like  a  wind  so  warm  that  a  mois- 
ture came  to  his  eyes. 

"  Iberville ! "  he  said,  in  a  glad  voice.    "  Pierre ! " 

The  violin  was  down  on  the  instant.  "  My  dear 
abbe ! "    And  then  the  two  embraced. 

" How  do  you  like  my  entrance?"  cried  the  young 
man.  "  But  I  had  to  provide  my  own  music ! "  He 
laughed,  and  ran  his  hands  affectionately  down  the 
arms  of  the  priest. 

"  I  had  been  playing  the  same  old  chanson- 
ette- 


»> 


"With  your  original  variations?" 

"  With  my  poor  variations,  just  before  you  came 
in  ;  and  that  done " 

"  Yes,  yes,  abbe,  I  know  the  rest :  prayers  for  the 
safe  return  of  the  sailor,  who  for  four  years  or  nearly 
has  been  learning  war  in  King  Louis'  ships,  and  for- 
getting the  good  old  way  of  fighting  by  land,  at  which 
he  once  served  his  prentice  time — with  your  blessing, 
my  old  tutor,  my  good  fighting  abbe !  Do  you  re- 
member when  we  stopped  those  Dutchmen  on  the 
Richelieu,  and  you " 

The  priest  interrupted  with  a  laugh.  "  But,  my 
dear  Iberville " 


I 


the 

early 

for- 

lich 

sing, 

re- 

tho 

my 


FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIU 


75 


' 


"  It  was  *  Pierre '  a  minute  gone,  'twill  be  *  Mon- 
sieur Pierre  le  Moyne  of  Iberville '  next,"  the  other 
said  in  mock  reproach,  as  he  went  to  the  fire. 

"  No,  no ;  I  merely " 

*'  I  understand.  Pardon  the  wild  youth  who 
plagues  his  old  friend  and  teacher,  as  he  did  long  ago 
— so  much  has  happened  since." 

His  face  became  grave  and  a  look  of  trouble  came. 
Presently  the  priest  said,  "  I  never  had  a  i)upil  whose 
teasing  was  so  pleasant,  poor  humourist  that  I  am. 
But  now,  Pierre,  tell  me  all,  while  I  lay  out  what  the 
pantry  holds." 

The  gay  look  came  back  into  Iberville's  face. 
"  Ahem,"  he  said, — "  wliich  is  the  way  to  begin  a 
wonderful  story :  Once  upon  a  time  a  young  man, 
longing  to  fight  for  his  king  by  land  alone,  and  with 
special  fighting  of  his  own  to  do  hard  by  " — (here  De 
Casson  looked  at  him  keenly  and  a  singular  light 
came  into  his  eyes) — "  was  wheedled  away  upon  the 
king's  ships  to  France,  and  so — 

•  Left  the  song  of  th*-    ijinning-wheol, 
The  hawk  and  t^o  lady  lair, 
And  sailed  away ' 

But  th^^  song   is   old  and  so  is  the  story,  abbe  ;  so 


u 


li 


i 


76 


THE  TRAIL  OF   THE  SWOUD. 


:  •! 


here's  <he  brief  note  of  it.  After  years  of  p'ay  aitd 
^vork--p)ay  in  France  and  stout  work  in  the  Hpan- 
iards'  country — lie  was  shipped  away  to — 

'  Those  battled  heights,  Quebec  heights,  our  own  heights, 
The  citadel  our  golden  lily  bears, 
And  Frontenac ' 

But  1  babble  again.  And  at  Quebec  he  finds  the  old 
song  changed.  The  heights  and  the  lilies  are  there, 
but  Frontenac,  the  great,  brave  Frontenac,  is  gone : 
confusion  lives  where  only  conquest  and  honest  quar- 
relling were " 

"  Frontenac  will  return — there  is  no  other  witv  ! " 
interposed  De  Casson. 

"  Perhaps.  And  the  young  man  looked  round 
and  lo!  old  faces  and  places  had  changed.  (Miililren 
had  grown  into  women,  with  children  at  their  breasts; 
young  wives  had  become  matronly ;  and  the  middle- 
aged  were  slaving  servants  i- vi  apothecaries  to  make 
them  young  again.  And  the  young  man  turned  from 
the  world  he  used  to  know,  and  said :  "  There  are  but 
three  thir.gs  in  the  world  worth  doing — loving,  roam- 
ing, and  fighting.  Therefore,  after  one  day,  he 
turned  from  the  poor  little  Court-game  at  Quebec, 
travelled   to   Montreal,  spent  a  few  hours  with  his 


FRIENDS  IN   COUNCIL. 


n 


lle- 

|ako 

•om 

Ibut 

im- 

he 

>cc, 

lliis 


father  and  bis  brotliers,  Bieaviile,  Lonfrurii,  Mari- 
court,  ai^d  Sainte-Helene,  and  then,  having  sent 
word  to  his  dearest  friend,  came  to  see  him,  and 
found  him  " — his  voice  got  softer — "  the  same  as  of 
old :  ready  with  music  and  wine  and  avcs  for  the 
prodigal." 

lie  paused.  The  priest  had  placed  meat  and  wine 
on  the  table,  and  now  he  came  and  put  his  hand  on 
Iberville's  shoulder.  "  Pierre,"  he  said,  "  I  welcome 
you  as  one  brother  might  another,  the  elder  foolishly 
fond."  Then  he  added,  "  I  was  glad  you  remembered 
our  music." 

"  My  dear  De  Casson,  .as  if  I  could  forget !  I 
have  yet  the  Maggini  3'ou  gave  me.  It  was  of  the 
tilings  for  remembering.  If  we  can't  be  loyal  to  our 
first  loves,  why  to  anything?" 

"Even  so,  Pierre;  but  few  at  your  age  arrive  ^l 
that.  Most  people  learn  it  when  they  have  bartered 
away  every  dream.  It  is  enough  to  have  a  few  honest 
emotions — very  few — and  stand  by  tiiem  till  all  be 
done." 

*'  Even  hating?"     Iberville's  eyes  were  eager. 

"  Tliere  is  such  a  thing  as  a  noble  hate." 

*' How  every  inch  of  you  is  man  !"  answered  the 


78 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


other,  clasping  tiiu  priest's  arms.  Then  he  added, 
"Abbe,  you  know  what  I  long  to  hear.  You  have 
been  to  New  York  twice;  you  wore  there  within 
these  three  months— 


»> 


"And  was  asked  to  leave  within  these  three 
months — banished,  as  it  were ! " 

"  I  know.  You  said  in  your  letter  that  you  had 
news.     You  were  kind  to  go — — " 

"  Perrot  went  too." 

"  My  faithful  Perrot !  I  was  about  to  ask  of  him. 
I  had  a  birch-bark  letter  from  him,  and  he  said  he 
would  come Ah,  here  he  is ! " 

He  listened.  There  was  a  man's  voice  singing 
near  by.     They  could  even  hear  the  words — 

"•O  the  young  seigneur!    0  the  young  seigneur! 
A  hundred  bucks  in  a  day  he  slew ; 
And  the  lady  gave  him  a  ribbon  to  wear, 
And  a  shred  of  gold  from  her  golden  hair — 
O  the  way  of  a  mnid  was  the  way  he  knew  ; 
0  the  young  seigneur  !    0  the  young  seigneur  ! '  " 


i 


I 


"  Shall  we  spe{»k  freely  before  him  ? "  said  the 
pri»'si 

"  As  f reoly  sTs  you  will.  Perrot  is  true.  Tie  was 
with  me  too  at  ihe  beginning." 


FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIL. 


79 


:hc 


vas 


At  that  moment  there  came  a  knock,  and  in  an 
instant  the  coureur  cle  bois  had  caught  the  hands  of 
the  young  man,  and  was  laughing  up  in  his  face. 

"  By  the  good  Sainte  Anne,  but  you  make  Nick 
Perrot  a  dwarf,  dear  monsieur !  " 

"  Well,  well,  little  man,  I'll  wager  neither  the 
great  abbe  here  nor  myself  could  bring  you  lower 
than  you  stand,  for  all  that.  Comrade,  'tis  kind  of 
you  to  come  so  prompt." 

"  What  is  there  so  good  as  the  face  of  an  old 
friend  !  "  said  Perrot.  with  a  little  laugh.  "  You  will 
drink  with  a  new,  and  eat  with  a  coming  friend,  and 
quarrel  with  either ;  but  'tis  only  the  old  friend  that 
knows  the  old  trail,  and  there's  notliing  to  a  man  like 
tlie  way  he  has  come  in  the  world." 

"  The  trail  of  the  good  comrado,"  said  the  priest 
softly. 

"  Ah  !  "  responded  Perrot,  "  I  remember,  abbe, 
when  we  were  at  the  Portnouf  you  made  some  verses 
of  that — eh  !  eh  !  but  they  were  good  !  " 

"  No  fitter  time,"  said  Iberville ;  "  c^mc,  abbe,  the 
verses ! " 

'•  No,  no;  another  day,"  answered  the  priest. 

It  was  an  interesting  scene.     Perrot,  short,  broad, 


80 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


li    I 


I    f 


swarthy,  dressed  in  rude  buckskin  gaudily  orna- 
mented, bandolier  and  belt  garnished  with  silver, — a 
recent  gift  of  some  grateful  merchant, — standing  be- 
tween the  powerful  black-robed  priest  and  this  gal- 
lant sailor-soldier,  richly  dressed  in  fine  skins  and 
lurs,  with  long  waving  hair,  more  like  a  Viking  than 
a  man  of  fashion,  and  carrying  a  courtly  and  yet 
sportive  look,  as  though  he  could  laugh  at  the  miser- 
ies of  the  sinful  world.  Three  strange  comrades  were 
these,  who  knew  each  other  so  far  as  one  man  can 
know  another,  yet  each  knowing  from  a  different 
standpoint.  Pcrrot  knew  certain  traits  of  Ibcrvilie 
of  which  De  Casson  was  ignorant,  and  the  abbe 
knew  many  depths  which  Perrot  never  even  vaguely 
plumbed.  And  yet  all  could  meot  and  be  free  in 
speech,  as  though  each  read  the  other  throughly. 

"  Let  us  begin,"  said  Iberville.  "  I  want  news  of 
Ntw  York." 

"  Let  us  eat  as  we  talk,"  urged  the  abbe. 

They  all  sat  and  were  soon  eating  and  drinking 
with  great  relish. 

Presently  the  abbe  began — 

"  Of  my  first  journey  yon  know  by  the  letter  I 
sent  you :    how  I  found  that  Mademoiselle  Leveret 


FIIIKNDS  IN  COUNCIL. 


81 


:mg 


ler  I 
feret 


was  gone  to  England  with  her  father.  Tliat  was  a 
year  after  you  left,  now  about  three  years  gone. 
Monsieur  Gering  entered  the  navy  of  the  English 
king  and  went  to  England  also." 

Iberville  nodded.  "  Yes,  yes,  in  the  English  navy; 
I  know  very  well  of  that." 

The  abbe  looked  up  surprised.  "  From  my  let- 
ter?" 

"  I  saw  him  once  in  the  Spaniards'  country,"  said 
Iberville,  "  when  we  swore  to  love  each  other  less  and 
less." 

"  What  was  the  trouble?"  asked  the  priest. 

"Pirates'  boot^,  which  he,  with  a  large  force, 
seized  as  a  few  of  my  men  were  carrying  it  to  the 
coast.  With  his  own  hand  he  cut  down  my  servant, 
who  had  been  with  me  since  from  the  llrst.  After- 
wards in  a  parley  I  saw  him,  and  we  exchanged — 
compliments.  The  sordid  gentleman  thought  I  was 
fretting  about  the  booty.  Good  God  !  what  arc  some 
thousand  pistoles  to  the  blood  of  one  honest  friend  ?  " 

"  And  in  your  minds  another  leaven  worked,"  ven- 
tured the  priest. 

"  Another  leaven,  as  you  say,"  responded  Iberville. 
"  So,  for  your  story,  abbe." 


v 


f- 


82 


TflE  TKAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


"  Of  the  first  journey  there  is  nothing  more  to  tell, 
save  that  the  English  governor  said  you  were  as  brave 
a  gentleman  as  over  played  ambassador — which  was, 
you  remember,  much  in  Count  Frontenac's  vein." 

Iberville  .nodded  and  smiled.  "  Frontenac  railed 
at  my  impertinence  also.'* 

"  But  gave  you  a  sword  when  you  told  him  the 
news  of  Kadisson,"  interjected  Perrot.  "  And  bye  and 
bye  I've  things  to  say  of  him ! " 

The  abbe  continued — "  For  my  second  visit,  but  a 
few  months  ago.  We  priests  have  gone  much  among 
the  Iroquois,  even  in  the  English  country,  and,  as  I 
promised  you,  I  went  to  New  York.  There  I  was 
summoned  to  the  governor.  He  commanded  me  to 
go  back  to  Quebec.  I  was  about  to  ask  him  of  Made- 
moiselle when  there  came  a  tap  at  the  door.  The 
governor  looked  at  mo  a  little  sharply.  *  You  are,' 
said  he,  *a  friend  of  Monsieur  Iberville.  You  shall 
know  one  who  keeps  him  in  remembrance.'  Then  he 
let  the  lady  enter.  She  had  heard  that  I  was  there, 
having  seen  Perrot  first." 

Here  Perrot,  witli  a  cliuckle,  broke  in — "  I  chanced 
that  way,  and  I  had  a  wish  to  see  what  was  for  seeing ; 
for  here  was  our  good  abbe  alone  among  the  wolves, 


KKIKNDS  IN  COUNCIL. 


88 


was 

mo  to 

Made- 

The 

are,' 

sliall 

Dn  he 

here, 


and  there  were  Uadisdon  and  the  iminortai  Bucklaw, 
of  whom  there  was  news." 

De  Casson  still  continued — "  When  I  was  presented 
she  took  my  hand  and  said,  '  Monsieur  I'Abb^,  I  am 
glad  to  meet  a  friend — an  old  friend — of  Monsieur 
Iberville.  1  hear  that  ho  has  been  in  France  and  else- 
where.' " 

Here  tlie  abbe  paused,  smiling  as  if  in  retrospect, 
and  kept  looking  into  the  fire  and  turning  about  in 
his  hand  his  cassock-cord. 

Iberville  had  sat  very  still,  liis  face  ruled  to  quiet- 
ness; only  his  eyes  showing  the  great  interest  he  felt. 
He  waited,  and  presently  said,  "  Yes,  and  then?" 

The  abbe  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  fire  and 
turned  them  upon  Iberville. 

"  And  then,"  he  said,  "  tlie  governor  left  the  room. 
When  he  had  gone  she  came  to  me  and,  laying  her 
hand  upon  my  arm,  said,  *  Monsieur,  I  knov;  you  are 
to  be  trusted.     You  are  the  friend  of  a  brave  man.'  " 

The  abbe  paused,  and  smiled  over  at  Iberville. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  "  her  trust  was  m  your  friend, 
not  in  my  ofTice.  Well,  presently  she  added,  '  I  know 
that  Monsieur  Iberville  and  Mr.  Goring,  for  a  foolish 
quarrel  of  years  ago,  still  are  cherished  foes.     I  wish 


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23  WfST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  t4SS0 

(716)  872-4903 


84 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


your  help  to  make  tliera  both  happier  ;  for  no  man  can 
be  happy  and  hate.'    And  I  gave  my  word  to  do  so." 

Here  Perrot  chuckled  to  himself  and  interjected 
softly,  "  Mon  Dieu  !  she  could  make  a  man  say  any- 
thing at  all.  1  would  have  sworn  to  her  that  while  I 
lived  I  never  should  fight.     Eh,  that's  so  !  " 

'"''Allans!  "  said  Iberville  impatiently,  yet  grasping 

« 

the  arm  of  the  woodsman  kindly. 

The  abbe  once  more  went  on — "  When  she  had 
ended  questioning  I  said  to  her,  '  And  what  message 
shall  I  give  from  you?'  *Tell  him,'  she  answered, 
*  by  the  right  of  lifelong  debt  I  ask  for  peace.'  *  Is 
that  all  ? '  said  I.  *  Tell  him,'  she  added,  *  I  hope  we 
may  meet  again.'  *  For  whose  sake,'  said  I,  *  do  you 
ask  for  peace  ? '  '  I  am  a  woman,'  she  answered, '  1 
am  selfish — for  my  own.' " 

Again  the  priest  paused,  and  again  Iberville  urged 
him. 

"  I  asked  if  she  had  no  token.  There  was  a  flame 
in  her  typ,  and  she  begged  me  to  excuse  her.  When 
she  came  back  she  handed  me  a  little  packet.  *  Give 
it  to  Monsieur  Iberville,'  she  said,  '  for  it  is  his.  He 
lent  it  to  me  years  ago.  No  doubt  he  has  for- 
gotten.' " 


Give 


He 
for- 


FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIL. 


85 


At  that  the  priest  drew  from  his  cassock  a  tiny 
packet,  and  Iberville,  taking,  opened  it.  It  held  a 
silver  buckle  tied  by  a  velvet  ribbon.  A  flush  crept 
slowly  up  Iberville's  face  from  his  chin  to  his  hair, 
then  he  sighed,  and  presently,  out  of  all  reason, 
laughed. 

"  Indeed,  yes ;  it  is  mine,"  he  said.  "  I  very  well 
remember  when  I  found  it." 

Here  Perrot  spoke.  "  I  very  well  remember,  mon- 
sieur, when  she  took  it  from  your  doublet ;  but  it  was 
on  a  slipper  then  !  " 

Iberville  did  not  answer,  but  held  the  buckle,  rub- 
bing it  on  his  sleeve  as  though  to  brighten  it.  "  So 
much  for  the  lady,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  what  more  ?  " 

"  I  learned,"  answered  the  abbe,  "  that  Monsieur 
Gering  was  in  Boston,  and  that  he  was  to  go  to  Fort 
Albany  at  Hudson's  Bay,  where,  on  our  territory,  the 
English  have  set  forts." 

Here  Perrot  spoke.  "  Do  you  know,  monsieur, 
who  are  the  poachers  ?  No  ?  Eh  ?  No  ?  Well,  it  is 
that  Radisson ! " 

Iberville  turned  sharply  upon  Perrot.  "  Are  you 
sure  of  that  ?  "  he  said.     "  Are  you  sure,  Nick  ?  " 

"  As  sure  as  I've  a  head.     And  I  will  tell  you 


',^m 


I 


\r 


I 


36 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


more :  Radisson  was  with  Bucklaw  at  the  kidnapping. 
I  had  the  pleasure  to  kill  a  fellow  of  Bucklaw's,  and 
he  told  me  that  before  he  died.  He  also  told  how 
Bucklaw  went  with  Radisson  to  the  Spaniard's 
country  treasure-hunting.  Ah !  there  are  many  fools 
in  the  world.  They  did  not  get  the  treasure.  They 
quarrelled,  and  Radisson  went  to  the  far  north,  Buck- 
law  to  the  far  south.  The  treasure  is  where  it  was. 
Eh  Men  !    Such  is  the  way  of  asses." 

Iberville  was  about  to  speak. 

"  But  wait,"  said  Perrot,  with  a  slow,  tantalising 
smile ;  "  it  is  not  wise  to  hurry.  I  have  a  mind  to 
know ;  so  while  I  am  at  New  York  I  go  to  Boston. 
It  makes  a  man's  mind  great  to  travel.  I  have 
been  east  to  Boston,  I  have  been  west  beyond  the 
Ottawa  and  the  Michilimackinac,  out  to  the  Mis- 
sissippi. Yes.  Well,  what  did  I  find  in  Boston? 
Peste!  I  found  that  they  were  all  like  men  in 
purgatory — sober  and  grave.  Truly  !  And  so  dull ! 
Never  a  saint-day,  never  a  feast,  never  a  grand 
council  when  the  wine,  the  rum,  flow  so  free,  and  you 
shall  eat  till  you  choke.  Nothing.  Everything  is 
stupid  ;  they  do  not  smile.  And  so  the  Indians  make 
war !    Well,  I  have  found  this.    There  is  a  great  man 


FRIENDS   IN  COUNCIL. 


87 


ippmg. 
7%  and 
Id  how 
miard's 
ly  fools 
They 
,  Buck- 
it  was. 


italising 
mind  to 
Boston. 
I  have 
nd  the 
lie  Mis- 

oston  ? 

en  in 

lo  dull ! 

grand 

nd  you 
ing  is 

s  make 

lat  man 


from  the  Kennebec  called  William  Phips.  He  has 
traded  in  the  Indies.  Once  while  he  was  there  he 
heard  of  that  treasure.  Ha !  ha !  There  have  been 
so  many  fools  on  that  trail.  The  governor  of  New 
York  was  a  fool  when  Bucklaw  played  his  game ;  he 
would  have  been  a  greater  if  he  had  gone  with  Buck- 
law." 

Here  Iberville  would  have  spoken,  but  Perrot 
waved  his  hand.  "De  grace,  a  minute  only.  Mon- 
sieur Gering,  the  brave  English  lieutenant,  is  at  Hud- 
son's Bay,  and  next  summer  he  will  go  with  the  great 
William  Phips — Tonnerre — what  a  name — William 
Pliips!  Like  a  pot  of  herring!  He  will  go  with 
him  after  the  same  old  treasure.  Boston  is  a  big 
place,  but  I  hear  these  things." 

Usually  a  man  of  few  words,  Perrot  had  bursts  of 
eloquence,  and  this  was  one  of  them.  But  having 
made  his  speech,  he  settled  back  to  his  tobacco  and 
into  the  orator's  earned  repose. 

Iberville  looked  up  from  the  fire  and  said, "Perrot, 
you  saw  her  in  New  York.  What  speech  was  there 
between  you  ?  " 

Perrot's  eyes  twinkled.  "There  was  not  much 
said.    I  put  myself  in  her  way.    When  she  saw  me 


J 


I 


rr 


88 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


!  ■ 


i  I 


her  cheek  came  like  a  peach-blossom.  *  A  very  good 
morning,  ma'm'selle,'  said  I,  in  English.  She  smiled 
and  said  the  same.  *  And  your  master,  where  is  he  ? ' 
she  asked  with  a  fine  smile.  *My  friend  Monsieur 
Iberville  ? '  I  said ;  '  ah  !  he  will  be  in  Quebec  soon.' 
Then  I  told  her  of  the  abbe,  and  she  took  from  a 
chain  a  little  medallion  and  gave  it  me  in  memory  of 
the  time  we  saved  her.  And  before  I  could  say.  Thank 
you,  she  had  gone.     Well,  that  is  all — except  this." 

He  drew  from  his  breast  a  chain  of  silver,  from 
which  hung  the  gold  medallion,  and  shook  his  head 
at  it  with  good-humour.  But  presently  a  hard  look 
came  on  his  face,  and  he  was  changed  from  the  cheer- 
ful woodsman  into  the  chief  of  bushrangers.  Iber- 
ville read  the  look,  ai  d  presently  said — 

"  Perrot,  men  ha\  e  fought  for  less  than  gold  from 
a  woman's  chain  and  a  buckle  from  her  shoe." 

"I  have  fought  from  Trois  Pistoles  to  Michili- 
mackinac  for  the  toss  of  a  louis-d'or." 

"  As  you  say.     Well,  what  think  you " 

Ke  paused,  rose,  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
caught  his  moustache  between  his  teeth  once  or  twice, 
and  seemed  buried  in  thought.  Once  or  twice  he  was 
about  to  speak,  but  changed  his  mind.    He  was  cal- 


FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIL. 


ihili- 


89 


culating  many  things .  planning,  counting  chances, 
marshalling  his  resources.  Presently  he  glanced 
round  the  room.  His  eyes  fell  on  a  map.  That  was 
it.  It  was  a  mere  outline,  but  enough.  Putting  his 
finger  on  it,  he  sent  it  up,  up,  up,  till  it  settled  on  the 
shores  of  Hudson's  Bay.  Again  he  ran  the  finger 
from  the  St.  Lawrence  up  the  coast  and  through 
Hudson's  Straits,  but  shook  his  head  in  negation. 
Then  he  stood,  looked  at  the  map  steadily,  and  pres- 
ently, still  absorbed,  turned  to  the  table.  He  saw  the 
violin.     He  picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to  De  Casson. 

"  Something  with  a  smack  of  war,"  he  said. 

"  And  a  woman  for  me,"  added  Perrot. 

The  abb6  shook  his  head  musingly  at  Perrot,  took 
the  violin,  and  gathered  it  to  his  chin.  At  first  he 
played  as  if  in  wait  of  something  that  eluded  him. 
But  all  at  once  he  floated  into  a  powerful  melody,  as 
a  creek  trails  softly  through  a  weir,  and  after  many 
wanderings  all  at  once  broadens  suddenly  into  a  great 
stream.  He  had  found  his  theme.  Its  effect  was 
striking.  Through  Iberville's  mind  there  ran  a  hun- 
dred incidents  of  his  life,  one  chasing  upon  the  other 
without  sequence — phantasmagoria  out  of  the  scene- 
house  of  memory  : — 


I , 


..■• 


!||! 


'i 


90 


THE  TUAIIi  OF  THE  SWOKD. 


The  light  upon  the  arms  of  De  Tracy's  soldiers 
when  they  marched  up  Mountain  Street  many  years 
before — The  frozen  ligure  of  a  man  standing  upright 
in  the  plains — A  procession  of  canoes  winding  down 
past  Two  Mountains,  the  wild  chant  of  the  Indians 
joining  with  the  romantic  songs  of  the  voyageurs — A 
girl  flashing  upon  the  drawn  swords  of  two  lads — 
King  Louis  giving  his  hand  to  one  of  these  lads  to 
kiss — A  lady  of  the  Court  for  whom  he  might  easily 
have  torn  his  soul  to  rags,  but  for  a  fair-faced  English 
girl,  ever  like  a  delicate  medallion  in  his  eye — A  fight 
with  the  English  in  the  Spaniards'  country  —  His 
father  blessing  him  as  he  went  forth  to  France — A 
dark  figure  taking  a  hundred  shapes,  and  yet  always 
meaning  the  same  as  when  he — Iberville — said  over 
the  governor's  table  in  New  York,  "  Foolish  boy  ! " — 
A  vast  stretch  of  lonelv  forest,  in  the  white  coverlet 
of  winter,  through  which  sounded  now  and  then  the 
ioom-boom  of  a  bursting  tree — A  few  score  men  upon 
a  desolate  northern  track,  silent,  desperate,  coura- 
geous ;  a  forlorn  hope  on  the  edge  of  the  Arctic  circle, 
with  the  joy  of  conquest  in  their  bones,  and  at  their 
thighs  the  swords  of  men. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  pictures,  but  the  last  of 


FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIL. 


91 


them  had  not  to  do  with  the  past:  a  dream  grown 
into  a  fact,  shaped  by  the  music,  become  at  once  an 
emotion  and  a  purpose. 

Iberville  had  now  driven  home  the  first  tent-peg 
of  a  wonderful  adventure.  Under  the  spell  of  that 
music  his  body  seemed  to  grow  larger.  He  fingered 
his  sword  J  and  presently  caught  Perrot  by  the  shoulder 
and  said,  "  We  will  do  it,  Perrot ! " 

Perrot  got  to  his  feet.  He  understood.  He  nod- 
ded and  seized  Iberville's  hand.  "  Bravo  !  There 
was  nothing  else  to  do,"  he  replied. 

De  Casson  lowered  his  violin.  **  What  do  you 
intend?"  hfc  asked  gravely. 

Iberville  took  his  great  hand  and  pressed  it.  "  To 
do  what  you  will  commend,  abb6 :  at  Hudson's  Bay 
to  win  back  forts  the  English  have  taken,  and  get 
those  they  have  built." 

"You  have  another  purpose,"  added  De  Oasson 
softly. 

"Abbe,  that  is  between  me  and  my  conscience; 
I  go  for  my  king  and  country  against  our 
foes." 

"  Who  will  go  with  you?— You  will  lead?" 

"  Not  I  to  Ictid — that  involves  me."     Iberville's 


1^ 


IH 


!1  i  ■ 


92 


THE  TUAIL  OF  TllK  SWOKD. 


face  darkened.  "I  wish  more  freedom,  but  still  to 
lead  in  fact." 

"  But  who  will  lead  ?     And  who  will  go  ?  " 

"  De  Troyes,  perhaps,  to  lead.  To  go,  my  brothers 
Sainte-llelene  and  Maricourt,  Perrot  and  a  stout 
company  of  his  men;  and  then  I  fear  not  treble  as 
many  English." 

The  priest  did  not  seem  satisfied.  Presently  Iber- 
ville, with  a  winning  smile,  ran  an  arm  over  his 
shoulder  and  added,  "  We  cannot  go  without  you, 
Dollier." 

The  priest's  face  cleared,  and  a  moment  afterwards 
the  three  comrades  shook  hands  together. 


1  to 


bers 
tout 
3  as 

ber- 

his 

^ou, 

irds 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AS   SEEN   THROUGH   A    GLASS    DARKLY. 

When  King  Louis  and  King  James  called  for 
peace,  they  could  not  know  that  it  was  as  little  pos- 
sible to  their  wo  colonies  as  between  rival  buccaneers. 
New  France  was  full  of  bold  spirits  who  loved  con- 
quest for  conquest's  sake.  Besides,  in  this  case  there 
was  a  force  at  work,  generally  unknown,  but  as  pow- 
erful as  the  convincing  influence  of  an  army.  Behind 
the  worst  and  the  best  acts  of  Charles  II  was  a  wom- 
an. Behind  the  glories  and  follies' of  Louis  XIV  was 
also  a  woman.  Behind  some  of  the  most  striking 
incidents  in  the  history  of  New  France,  New  Eng- 
land, and  New  York,  was  a  woman. 

We  saw  her  when  she  was  but  a  child — the  centre 
of  singular  events.  Yearj  had  passed.  Not  one  of 
those  events  had  gone  for  nothing ;  each  was  bearing 
fruit  after  its  kind. 

(98) 


1 

'1! 


H 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWOIID. 


!     I: 


Sho  is  sitting  alono  in  a  room  of  a  large,  un- 
handsome house,  facing  on  Boston  Harbour.  It  is 
evening.  Tlie  room  itself  is  of  dark  wood,  and  even- 
ing has  thrown  it  into  gloom.  Yet  somehow  the  girl's 
face  has  a  light  of  its  own.  She  is  turned  fair  to- 
wards the  window,  and  is  looking  out  to  sea.  A  mist 
is  rising  from  the  water,  and  the  shore  is  growing 
grey  and  heavy  as  the  light  in  Qie  west  recedes  and 
night  creeps  in  fr^m  the  ocean.  She  watches  the 
waves  and  the  mist  till  all  is  mist  without;  a  scene 
which  sho  had  watched,  how  often  she  could  not 
count.  The  night  closes  in  entirely  upon  her,  but 
she  does  not  move.  At  last  the  door  of  the  room 
opens  and  someone  enters  and  closes  it  again. 

"  My  daughter ! "  says  an  anxious  voice.  "Are  you 
here,  Jessica  ?  " 

"  I  am  here,  father,"  is  the  reply. 

"Shall  we  have  lights?" 

"  As  you  will." 

Even  as  they  speak  a  servant  enters,  and  lighted 
candles  are  put  upon  the  table.  They  are  alone 
again.  Both  are  pale.  The  girl  stands  very  still, 
and  so  quiet  is  her  face,  one  could  never  guess  that 
she  is  passing  through  the  tragic  moment  of  her  life. 


AS  SEEN  THUOUGII   A  GLASS  DARKLY.       95 

**  What  is  your  answer,  Jessica?"  ho  asks. 

"  I  will  marry  him  when  ho  comes  back." 

"  Thank  God ! "  is  the  old  man's  acknowledg- 
ment.    "  You  have  saved  our  fortunes  !  " 

The  girl  sighs,  and  then,  with  a  little  touch 
of  that  demure  irony  which  wo  had  seen  in  her 
years  before,  says,  "  I  trust  we  have  not  lost  our 
honour." 

"  Why,  you  love  him,  do  you  not  ?  There  is  no 
one  you  care  for  more  than  George  Gering?  " 

"  I  suppose  not,"  is  her  reply,  but  the  tone  is  enig- 
matical. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

While  this  scene  is  on,  another  appears  in  Cheap- 
side,  London.  A  man  of  bold  and  vigorous  bearing 
comes  from  the  office  of  a  well-known  solicitor.  That 
very  morning  he  had  had  an  interview  with  the  King, 
and  had  been  reminded  with  more  exactness  than 
kindness  that  he  had  cost  King  Charles  a  ship,  scores 
of  men,  and  thousands  of  pounds,  in  a  fruitless  search 
for  buried  treasure  in  Hispaniola.  When  he  had 
urged  his  case  upon  the  basis  of  fresh  information,  he 
was  drily  told  that  the  security  was  too  scant,  even 
for  a  king.     He  had  then  pleaded  his  case  to  the 


•  ii 


a  ! 


t: 


();,'< 

1 


^ 


96 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


Duke  of  Albemarle  and  other  distinguished  gentle- 
men. They  were  seemingly  convinced,  but  withheld 
their  answer  till  the  following  morning. 

Bat  William  Phips,  stubborn  adventurer,  destined 
to  receive  all  sorts  of  honours  in  his  time,  has  no  in- 
tention of  quitting  London  till  he  has  his  way ;  and 
this  is  his  thought  as  he  steps  into  Cheapside,  having 
already  made  preparations  upon  the  chance  of  suc- 
cess. He  has  gone  so  far  as  to  purchase  a  ship,  called 
the  Bridgwater  Merchant,  from  an  alderman  in  Lon- 
don, though  he  has  not  a  hundred  guineas  at  his  dis- 
posal. As  he  stands  debating  a  hand  touches  his  arm 
and  a  voice  says  in  his  ear,  "  You  were  within  a  mile 
of  it  with  the  Algier  Eose,  two  years  ago." 

The  great  adventurer  turns.  "  The  devil  I  was ! 
And  who  are  you  ?  '* 

Satanic  humour  plays  in  the  stranger's  eyes  ''s  he 
answers,  "  I  am  Edward  Bucklaw,  pirate  and  keeper 
of  the  treasure-house  in  the  La  Planta  River." 

"  Blood  of  Judas ! "  Phips  says,  "  how  dare  you 
speak  to  me  ?  Pll  have  you  in  yon  prison  for  an  un- 
hung  rascal ! " 

"  Ah  !  you  are  a  great  man,"  is  the  unmoved  re- 
ply.   "  I  knew  you'd  feel  that  way.     But  if  you'll 


AS  SEEN  THROUGH  A  GLASS  DARKLY.   97 

listen  for  five  minuios,  down  here  at  the  BuU-and- 
Daisy,  there  shv  .  be  peace  between  us." 

Aq  hour  later,  Phips,  following  Bucklaw's  instruc- 
tions, is  tracing  on  a  map  the  true  location  of  the  lost 
galleon's  treasure. 

"  Then,"  says  Bucklaw,  "  we  are  comrades  ?  " 

"  We  are  adventurers." 


■i  ■■;i 


you 
un- 


Another  scene.  In  a  northern  inland  sea  two  men 
are  standing  on  the  deck  of  a  ship  :  the  one  stalwart, 
clear-eyed,  with  a  touch  of  strong  reserve  in  face  and 
manner ;  the  other  of  middle  height,  with  sinister 
look.  The  former  is  looking  out  silently  upon  the  ^ 
great  locked  hummocks  of  ice  surrounding  the  vessel. 
It  is  the  early  morning.  The  sun  is  shining  with 
that  hard  brightness  only  seen  in  the  Arctic  world, — 
keen  as  silver,  cold  as  steel.  It  plays  upon  the  hum- 
mocks, and  they  send  out  shafts  of  light  at  fantastic 
angles,  and  a  thin  blue  line  runs  between  the  almost 
unbearable  general  radiance  and  the  sea  of  ice  stretch- 
ing indefinitely  away.  But  to  the  west  is  a  shore,  and 
on  it  stands  a  fort  and  a  few  detached  houses.  Upon 
the  walls  of  the  fort  are  some  guns,  and  the  British 
flag  is  flying  above.      Beyond  these  again  are  the 


IS 


I 

\ 

Si 


98 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


plains  of  the  north — the  home  of  the  elk,  musk-ox, 
silver  fox,  the  white  bear  and  the  lonely  races  of  the 
Pole.  Here  and  there,  in  the  south-west,  an  island  of 
pines  breaks  the  monotony,  but  to  the  north  there  is 
only  the  white  silence,  the  terrible  and  yet  beautiful 
trail  of  the  Arctic. 

The  smaller  man  stands  swinging  his  amis  for 
warmth ;  the  smack  of  the  leather  in  the  clear  air  like 
the  report  of  a  gun.  Presently,  stopping  his  exercise, 
he  says : — 

"  Well,  monsieur,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

Slowly  the  young  man  withdraws  his  eyes  from 
the  scene  and  turns. 

"  Radisson,"  he  says,  "  this  is  much  the  same  story 
as  Bucklaw  told  Governor  Nicholls.  How  come  you 
to  know  of  it  ?  " 

"  You  remember,  I  was  proclaimed  four  years  ago  ? 
Well,  afterwards  I  fell  in  with  Bucklaw.  I  sailed  with 
him  to  the  Spaniards'  country,  and  we  might  have  got 
the  treasure,  but  we  quarrelled ;  there  was  a  fight,  and 
I — well,  we  end.  Bucklaw  was  taken  by  the  French 
ard  was  carried  to  France.  He  was  a  fool  to  look  for 
the  treasure  with  a  poor  ship  and  a  worse  crew.  He 
was  for  getting  William  Phips,  a  man  of  Boston,  to 


V 

8 


AS  SEEN  THROUGH  A  GLASS  DARKLY.   99 

work  with  him,  for  Phips  had  got  something  of  the 
secret  from  an  old  sailor,  but  when  he  would  have 
got  him,  Phips  was  on  his  way  with  a  ship  01  King 
Charles's.  I  will  tell  you  something  more.  Made- 
moiselle Leveret's— 


>j 


I »» 


"  What  do  you  know  of  Mademoiselle  Leveret  ? 

"  A  little.  Mademoiselle's  father  lost  much  money 
in  Phips'  expedition." 

"  How  know  you  that  ?  " 

"  I  have  ears.  You  have  promised  to  go  with 
Phips.     Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

«  What  then  ?  " 

"  I  will  go  with  you." 

«  Booty  ?  " 

"  No,  revenge.'* 

"On  whom?" 

"  The  man  you  hate — Iberville." 

Gering's  face  darkens.  "  We  are  not  likely  to 
meet." 

^^ Pardon!  very  likely.  Six  months  ago  he  was 
coming  back  from  France.  He  will  find  you.  I 
know  the  race." 

A  sneer  is  on  Gering's  face.  "Freebooters,  out- 
laws like  yourself ! " 


•'i 


w 

t  .  t  '. 


I 


McMASIER  UNIVERSin  UBRARY 


100 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


I 


"  Not  so,  gentlemen,  monsieur ;  noble  outlaws. 
What  is  it  that  once  or  twice  they  have  quarrelled 
with  the  governor,  and  because  they  would  not  yield 
have  been  proclaimed  ?  Nothing.  Proclaimed  yester- 
day, to-day  at  Court.  No,  no  ;  I  hate  Iberville,  but  he 
is  a  great  man." 

In  the  veins  of  the  renegade  is  still  latent  the 
pride  of  race.  He  is  a  villain,  but  he  knows  the 
height  from  which  he  fell.  "  He  will  find  you,  mon- 
sieur," he  repeats.  "  When  a  Le  Moyne  is  the  hunter 
he  never  will  kennel  till  the  end.  Besides,  there  is 
the  lady!" 

"  Silence ! " 

Radisson  knows  that  he  has  said  too  much.  His 
manner  changes.    "  You  will  let  me  go  with  you  ?  " 

The  Englishman  remembers  that  this  scoundrel 
was  with  Bucklaw,  although  he  does  not  know  that 
Radisson  was  one  of  the  abductors. 

"  Never  ! "  he  says,  and  turns  upon  his  heel. 

A  moment  after  and  the  two  have  disappeared 
from  the  lonely  pageant  of  ice  and  sun.     Man  has 

« 

disappeared,  but  his  works — houses  and  ships  and 
walls  and  snow-topped  cannon — lie  there  in  the  hard 
grasp  of  the  North,  Avhile  the  White  Weaver,  at  the 


AS  SEEN  THROUGH  A  GLASS  DARKLY.  101 


summit  of  the  world,  is  shuttling  these  lives  into  the 

woof  of  battle,  murder  and  sudden  death. 

•  •••••• 

On  the  shore  of  the  La  Planta  River  a  man  lies 
looking  into  the  sunset.  So  sweet,  so  beautiful  is  the 
landscape, — the  deep  foliage,  the  scent  of  flowers,  the 
flutter  of  bright- winged  birds,  the  fern-grown  walls  of  a 
ruined  town,  the  wallowing  eloquence  of  the  river,  the 
sonorous  din  of  the  locust, — that  none  could  think  this 
a  couch  of  death.  A  Spanish  priest  is  making  ready 
for  that  last  long  voyage,  when  the  soul  of  man  sloughs 
the  dross  of  earth.  Beside  him  kneels  another  priest 
— a  Frenchman  of  the  same  order. 

The  dying  man  feebly  takes  from  his  breast  a 
packet  and  hands  it  to  his  friend. 

"  It  is  as  I  have  said,"  he  whispers.  "  Others  may 
guess,  but  I  know.  I  know — and  another.  The  rest 
are  all  dead.  There  were  six  of  us,  and  all  were  killed 
save  myself.  We  were  poisoned  by  a  Spaniard.  He 
thought  he  had  killed  all,  but  I  lived.  He  also  was 
killed  by  one  Bucklaw,  au  English  pirate.  He  \as 
the  secret.  Once  he  came  with  a  ship  to  find,  but 
there  was  trouble  and  he  did  not  go  on.  An  English- 
man also  came  with  the  king's  ship,  but  he  did  not 


f 


hi 


I 


I 


102 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


I 

I 


find.    But  I  know  that  the  man  Bucklaw  will  come 

again.    It  should  not  be.     Listen :  A  year  ago,  and 
something  more,  I  was  travelling  to  the  coast.    From 

there  I  was  to  sail  for  Spain.     I  had  lost  the  chart  of 

the  river  then.     I  was  taken  ill  and  I  should  have 

died,  but  a  young  French  officer  stayed  his  men  beside 

me  and  cared  for  me,  and  had  me  carried  to  the  coast, 

where  I  recovered.    I  did  not  go  to  Spain,  and  I  found 

the  chart  of  the  river  again." 

There  is  a  pause,  in  which  the  deep  breathing  of 
the  dying  man  mingles  with  the  low  wash  of  the  river, 
and  presently  he  speaks  agtiin.  "  I  vowed  then  that 
he  should  know.  As  God  is  our  Father,  swear  that 
you  will  give  this  packet  to  himself  only." 

The  priest,  in  reply,  lifts  the  crucifix  from  the 
dying  man's  breast  and  puts  his  lips  to  it.  The 
world  seems  not  to  know,  so  cheerful  is  it  all,  that, 
with  a  sob, — that  sob  of  farewell  which  the  soul  gives 
the  body, — the  spirit  of  a  man  is  passing  the  mile- 
posts  called  Life,  Time,  and  Eternity. 


Yet  another  glance  into  passing  incidents  before 
we  follow  the  straight  trail  of  our  story.  In  the  city 
of  Montreal  fourscore  men  are  kneeling  in  a  little 


AS  SEEN  THKOUGU  A  GLASS  DARKLY.     103 

c?iurch,  as  the  mass  is  slowly  chanted  at  the  altar. 
All  of  them  are  armed.  By  the  flare  of  the  torches 
and  ihe  candles — for  it  is  not  daybreak  yet — you  can 
see  the  flash  of  a  scabbard,  the  glint  of  a  knife,  and 
the  sheen  of  a  bandolier. 

Presently,  from  among  them,  one  man  rises,  goes 
to  the  steps  of  the  sanctuary  and  kneels.  He  is  the 
leader  of  the  expedition,  the  Chevalier  de  Troyes,  the 
chosen  of  the  governor.  A  moment,  and  three  other 
men  rise  and  come  and  kneel  beside  him.  These  are 
three  brothers,  and  one  we  know — gallant,  imperious, 
cordial,  having  the  superior  ease  of  the  courtier. 

The  four  receive  a  blessing  from  a  massive,  hand- 
some priest,  whose  face,  as  it  bends  over  Iberville,  sud- 
denly flushes  with  feeling.  Presently  the  others  rise, 
but  Iberville  remains  an  instant  longer,  as  if  loth  to 
leave.  The  priest  whispers  to  him,  "Be  strong,  be 
just,  be  merciful." 

The  young  man  lifts  his  eyes  to  the  priest's.  "  I 
will  be  just,  abbe  !  " 

Then  the  priest  makes  the  sacred  gesture  over  him. 


8 


1^ 


:H 


'|.: 


I 


] 


^1 

i 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TO  THE    PORCH    OF  THE   WORLD. 

The  English  colonies  never  had  a  race  of  woods- 
men like  the  coureurs  de  hois  of  New  France.  These 
were  a  strange  mixture :  French  peasants,  half-breeds 
Canadian-born  Frenchmen,  gentlemen  of  birth  with 
lives  and  fortunes  gone  askew,  and  many  of  th  native 
Canadian  noblesse,  who,  like  the  nobles  of  France, 
forbidden  to  become  merchants,  became  adventurers 
with  the  coureurs  de  bois,  who  were  ever  with  them 
in  spirit  more  than  with  the  merchant.  The  peasant 
prefers  the  gentleman  to  the  bourgeois  as  his  compan- 
ion. Many  a  coureur  de  hois  divided  his  tale  of  furs 
with  a  distressed  noble  or  seigneur,  who  dare  not  work 
in  the  fields. 

The  veteran  Charles  le  Moyne,  with  his  sons,  each 
of  whom  played  a  daring  and  important  part  in  the 
history  of  New  France, — Iberville  greatest, — was  one 
of  the  few  merchants  in  whom  was  combined  the 

(104) 


TO  THE  PORCn  OF  THE  WORLD. 


105 


ich 
the 
me 
the 


trader  and  the  noble.  But  he  was  a  tiader  by  pro- 
fession before  he  became  a  seigneur.  In  his  veins 
was  a  strain  of  noble  blood  ;  but,  leaving  France  and 
settling  in  Canada,  he  avoided  the  little  Court  at 
Quebec,  went  to  Montreal,  and  there  began  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  his  fame  and  fortune,  and  to  send  forth 
men  wh  ^  were  as  the  sons  of  Jacob.  In  his  heart  he 
was  always  in  sympathy  with  the  woodsmen,  and  when 
they  were  proclaimed  as  perilous  to  the  peace  and 
prosperity  of  the  king's  empire,  he  stood  stoutly  by 
them.  Adventurers,  they  traded  as  they  listed  ;  and 
when  the  Intendant  Duchesnau  could  not  bend  them 
to  his  greedy  will,  they  were  to  be  caught  and  hanged 
wherever  found.  King  Louis  hardly  guessed  that  to 
carry  out  that  order  would  be  to  reduce  greatly  the 
list  of  his  Canadian  noblesse.  It  struck  a  blow  at  the 
men  who,  in  one  of  the  letters  which  the  grim  Fron- 
tenac  sent  to  Versailles  not  long  before  his  death,  were 
rightly  called  "  The  King's  Traders "  —  more  truly 
such  than  any  others  in  New  France. 

Whether  or  not  the  old  seigneur  knew  it  at  the 
time,  three  of  his  own  sons  were  among  the  cotireurs 
de  hois — chieftains  by  courtesy — when  they  were  pro- 
claimed.   And  it  was  like  Iberville,  that,  then  only  a 


W 


\ 


'11 


I 


;|i 


106 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


lad,  he  came  in  from  the  woods,  went  to  his  father, 
and  astonished  him  by  asking  for  his  blessing.  Then 
he  started  for  Quebec, .'  .  riving  there  with  Perrot 
and  Du  Lhut,  went  to  the  citadel  at  night  and  asked 
to  be  admitted  to  Count  Frontenac.  Perhaps  the 
governor — grand  half-barbarian  as  he  was  at  heart — 
guessed  the  nature  of  the  visit  and  before  he  admitted 
Iberville,  dismissed  those  who  were  with  him.  There 
is  in  an  old  letter  still  preserved  by  an  ancient  family 
of  France,  an  account  of  this  interview,  told  by  a 
cynical  young  nobleman.  Iberville  alone  was  ad- 
mitted. His  excellency  greeted  his  young  visitor 
courteously,  yet  with  hauteur. 

"You  bring  strange  comrades  to  visit  your  gov- 
ernor. Monsieur  Iberville,"  he  said. 

"  Comrades  in  peace,  your  excellency,  comrades  in 
war." 

"What  war?" 

"  The  king  makes  war  against  the  coureurs  de  hois. 
There  is  a  price  on  the  heads  of  Perrot  and  Du  Lhut. 
We  are  all  in  the  same  boat." 

"  You  speak  in  riddles,  sir." 

"  I  speak  of  riddles.  Perrot  and  Du  Lhut  are 
good  friends  of  the  king.     They  have  helped  your 


TO  THE  PORCFI  OF  THE  WOULD. 


107 


excellency  with  the  Indians  a  score  of  times.  Their 
men  have  been  a  little  roystering,  but  that'n  no  sin. 
I  am  one  with  them,  and  I  am  as  good  a  subject  as 
the  king  has." 

"  Why  have  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  To  give  myself  up.  If  you  shoot  Perrot  or  Du 
Lhut  you  will  have  to  shoot  me ;  and,  if  you  curry  on 
the  matter,  your  excellency  will  not  have  enough  gen- 
tlemen to  play  Tar  tuff e.'''* 

This  last  remark  referred  to  a  quarrel  which  Fron- 
tenac  had  had  with  the  bishop,  who  inveighed  against 
the  governor's  intention  of  producing  Tartuffe  at  the 
chateau. 

Iberville's  daring  was  quite  as  remarkable  as  the 
position  in  which  he  had  place'^  himself.  With  a 
lesser  man  than  Frontenac  it  might  have  ended  badly. 
But  himself,  courtier  as  he  was,  had  ever  used  hero- 
ical  methods,  and  appreciated  the  reckless  courage  of 
youth.  With  grim  humour  he  put  all  three  under 
arrest,  made  them  sup  with  him,  and  sent  them  away 
secretly  before  morning — free.  Before  Iberville  left, 
the  governor  had  word  with  him  alone. 

"Monsieur,"  he  said,  "you  have  a  keen  tongue, 
but  our  king  needs  keen  swords,  and  since  you  have 


; 


% 


108 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


the  advantage  of  me  in  this,  I  shall  take  care  you  pay 
the  bill.  AVe  have  had  enough  of  outlawry.  You 
shall  figlit  by  rule  and  measure  soon." 

"  In  your  excellency's  bodyguard,  I  hope,"  was  the 
instant  reply. 

"  In  the  king's  navy,"  answered  Frontenac,  with  a 
smile,  for  he  was  pleased  with  the  frank  flattery. 

A  career  different  from  that  of  George  Gering, 
who,  brought  up  with  Puritans,  had  early  learned  to 
take  life  seriously,  had  little  of  Iberville's  gay  spirit, 
but  was  just  such  a  determined,  self-conscious  Eng- 
lishman as  anyone  could  trust  and  admire,  and  none 
but  an  Englishman  love. 

And  Jessica  Leveret?  Wherever  she  had  been 
during  the  past  four  years,  she  had  stood  between 
these  two  men,  regardful,  wondering,  waiting ;  and  at 
last,  as  we  know,  casting  the  die  against  the  enemy  of 
hei'  country.     But  was  it  cast  after  all  ? 

Inmediately  after  she  made  a  certain  solemn 
promise,  recorded  in  the  last  chapter,  she  went  once 
again  to  New  York  to  visit  Governor  Nicholls.  She 
had  been  there  some  months  before,  but  it  was  only 
for  a  few  weeks,  and  then  she  had  met  Dollier  de 
Casson  and  Perrot.     That  her  mind  was  influenced 


TO  THE  PORCH   OF  TJIK  WOULD. 


109 


by  memory  of  Iberville  we  may  guess,  but  in  whut 
fashion  who  can  say?  It  is  not  in  mortal  man  to 
resolve  the  fancies  of  women  or  interpret  the  shadowy 
inclinations,  the  timid  revulsions,  which  move  them — 
they  cannot  tell  why,  any  more  than  we.  They  would 
indeed  be  thankful  to  bo  solved  unto  themselves. 
The  great  moment  for  a  man  with  a  woman  is  when, 
by  some  clear  guess  or  some  special  providence,  he 
shows  her  in  a  flash  her  own  mind.  Her  respect,  her 
serious  wonder,  are  all  then  making  for  his  glory. 
Wise  and  happy  if  by  a  further  touch  of  genius  he 
seizes  the  situation :  henceforth  he  is  her  master. 
George  Gering  and  Jessica  had  been  children  to- 
gether, and  he  understood  her,  perhaps,  as  did  no  one 
else,  save  her  father ;  though  he  never  made  good  use 
of  his  knowledge,  nor  did  he  touch  that  side  of  her 
which  was  purely  feminine — her  sweet  inconsistency ; 
therefore,  he  was  not  her  master. 

But  he  had  appealed  to  her,  for  he  had  courage, 
strong  ambition,  thorough  kindness^  and  fine  char- 
acter, only  marred  by  a  want  of  temperament.  She 
had  avoided  as  long  as  she  could  the  question  which, 
on  his  return  from  service  in  the  navy,  he  asked  her, 
almost  without  warning ;  and  with  a  touch  of  her  old 


i'-'I 


110 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


demureness  and  gayety,  she  had  put  him  off,  bidding 
him  go  win  his  laurels  as  commander.  He  was  then 
commissioned  for  Hudson's  Bay,  and  expected,  on  his 
return,  to  proceed  to  the  Spaniards'  country  with 
William  Phips,  if  that  brave  gentleman  succeeded 
with  the  king  or  his  nobles.  He  had  gone  north  with 
his  ship,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  when  Iberville  started 
on  that  almost  impossible  journey,  was  preparing  to 
return  to  Boston.     As  he  waited  Iberville  came  on. 


CHAPTER   X. 


QUI  vive! 


From  Land's  End  to  John  o'Groat's  is  a  long 
tramp,  but  that  from  Montreal  to  Hudson's  Bay  is  far 
longer,  and  yet  many  have  made  it ;  more,  however, 
in  the  days  of  which  we  are  writing  than  now,  and 
with  greater  hardships  also  then.  But  weighed 
against  the  greater  hardships  there  was  a  bolder  tem- 
per and  a  more  romantic  spirit. 

How  strange  and  severe  a  journey  it  was,  only 
those  can  tell  who  have  travelled  those  wastes,  even  in 
these  later  days,  when  paths  have  been  beaten  down 
from  Mount  Royal  to  the  lodges  of  the  North.  When 
they  started,  the  ice  had  not  yet  all  left  the  Ottawa 
River,  and  they  wound  their  way  through  crowding 
floes,  or  portaged  here  and  there  for  miles,  the  eager 
sun  of  spring  above  with  scarcely  a  cloud  to  trail  be- 
hind him.     At  last  the  river  cleared,  and  for  leasrues 

they  travelled  to  the  north-west,  and  canu   at  last  to 

(111) 


r^ 


112 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


the  Lake  of  the  Winds.  They  travelled  across  one 
corner  of  it,  to  a  point  where  they  would  strike  an 
unknown  path  to  Hudson's  Bay. 

Iberville  had  never  before  seen  this  lake,  and,  with 
all  his  knowledge  of  great  proportions,  he  was  not 
prepared  for  its  splendid  vastness.  They  came  upon 
it  in  the  evening,  and  camped  beside  it.  .  They 
watched  the  sun  spread  out  his  banners,  presently  veil 
his  head  in  them,  and  sink  below  the  world.  And 
between  them  and  that  sunset  was  a  vast  rock  stretch- 
ing out  from  a  ponderous  shore — a  colossal  stone  lion, 
resting  Sphinx-like,  keeping  its  faith  with  the  ages. 
Alone,  the  warder  of  the  West,  stormy,  menacing, 
even  the  vernal  sun  could  give  it  little  cheerfulness. 
But  to  Iberville  and  his  followers  it  brought  no  gloom 
at  night,  nor  yet  in  the  morning  when  all  was 
changed,  and  a  soft,  silver  mist  hung  over  the  "  great 
water,"  like  dissolving  dew,  through  which  the  sun- 
light came  with  a  strange  solemn  delicacy.  Upon  the 
shore  were  bustle,  cheerfulness,  and  song,  until  every 
canoe  was  launched,  and  then  the  band  of  warriors 
got  in,  and  presently  were  away  in  the  haze. 

The  long  bark  canoes,  with  lofty  prows,  stained 
with  powerful  dyes,  slid  along  this  path  swiftly,  the 


QUI  VIVE  I 


113 


paddlea  noiselessly  cleaving  the  water  with  the  pre- 
cision of  a  pendulum.  One  followed  the  other  with  a 
space  between,  so  that  Iberville,  in  the  first,  looking 
back,  could  see  a  diminishing  procession,  the  last 
seeming  large  and  weird — almost  a  shadow — as  it 
were  a  part  of  the  weird  atmosphere.  Jn  either 
side  was  that  soft  plumbless  diffusion,  and  ahead 
the  secret  of  un travelled  wilds  and  the  fortunes 
of  war. 

As  if  by  common  instinct,  all  gossip  ceased  soon 
after  they  left  the  shore,  and,  cheer'iul  as  was  the 
French  Canadian,  he  was — and  is — superstitious.  He 
saw  sermons  in  stones,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
and  the  supernatural  in  everything.  Simple,  hardy, 
occasionally  bloody,  he  was  ever  on  the  watch  for 
signs  and  wonders ;  and  a  phase  of  nature  influenced 
him  after  the  manner  of  a  being  with  a  temperament. 
Often  as  some  of  the  woodsmen  and  rivermen  had 
seen  this  strange  effect,  they  now  made  the  sacred 
gesture  as  they  ran  on.  The  pure  moisture  lay  like  a 
fine  exudation  on  their  brown  skins,  glistened  on 
their  black  hair,  and  hung  from  their  beards,  g' ving 
them  a  mysterious  look.  The  colours  of  their  canoes 
and  clothes  were  softened  by  the  dim  air  and  long 


i  ■! 


m 


114 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


use,  and  there  seemed  to  accompany  each  boat  and 
each  person  an  atmosphere  within  this  other  haze,  a 
spiritual  kind  of  exhalation  ;  so  that  one  might  have 
thought  them,  with  the  crucifixes  on  their  breasts  and 
that  unworldly,  distinguished  look  which  comes  to 
those  who  live  much  with  nature,  as  sons  of  men 
going  upon  such  mission  as  did  they  who  went  into 
the  far  land  with  Arthur. 

But  the  silence  could  not  be  maintained  for  long. 
The  first  flush  of  the  impression  gone,  these  half- 
barbarians,  with  the  simple  hearts  of  children,  must 
rise  from  the  almost  melancholy,  somewhat  religious, 
mood  into  which  they  had  been  cast.  As  Iberville, 
with  Sainte-Helene  and  Perrot,  sat  watching  the 
canoes  that  followed,  with  voyageurs  erect  in  bow  and 
stern,  a  voice  in  the  next  canoe,  with  a  half-chanting 
modulation,  began  a  song  of  wild-life.  Voice  after 
voice  slowly  took  it  up,  until  it  ran  along  the  whole 
procession.  A  verse  was  sung,  then  a  chorus  alto- 
gether, then  a  refrain  of  one  verse  which  was  sung  by 
each  boat  in  succession  to  the  last.  As  the  refrain  of 
this  was  sung  by  the  last  boat  it  seemed  to  come  out 
of  the  great  haze  behind.  Verses  of  the  old  song  are 
still  preserved  — 


:%f^- 


'^^ir;^a 


QUI  VIVE!  115 

"  Qui  vive  ! 
Who  is  it  cries  in  the  dawn — 
Cries  when  the  stars  go  down  I 
Who  is  it  comes  through  the  mist — 
The  mist  that  is  fine  like  lawn, 
The  mist  like  an  angel's  gownf 
Who  is  it  comes  in  the  dawnf  • 

Qui  vive  !   Qui  vive  !  in  the  dawn. 

"  Q\ii  vive  ! 
Who  is  it  passeth  us  by, 
Still  in  the  dawn  and  the  mistf 
Tall  seigneur  of  the  dawn : 
A  two-edged  sword  at  his  thigh, 
A  shield  of  gold  at  his  wrist: 
Who  is  it  hurrieth  by  ? 

Qui  vive  !  Qui  vive  !  in  the  dawn." 

Under  the  influence  of  this  beautiful  mystery  of 
the  dawn,  the  slow  thrilling  song,  and  the  strange, 
happy  loneliness — as  though  they  were  in  the  wash 
between  two  worlds,  Iberville  got  the  great  inspiration 
of  his  life.  He  would  be  a  discoverer,  the  faithful 
captain  of  his  king,  a  trader  in  provinces.  .  .  . 
And  in  that  he  kept  his  word — years  after ;  but  he 
kept  it.  There  came  with  this,  what  always  comes  to 
a  man  of  great  ideas :  the  woman  who  should  share 
his  prowess.     Such  a  man  if  forced  to  choose  between 


it 


\  f 


lie 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


the  woman  and  the  idea,  will  ever  decide  for  the 
woman  after  he  has  married  her,  sacrificing  what — 
however  much  he  hides  it — lies  behind  all.  But  he 
alone  kncAvs  what  he  has  sacrificed.  For  it  is  in  the 
order  of  things  that  the  great  man  shall  be  first  the 
maker  of  kingdoms  and  homes,  and  then  the  husband 
of  his  wife  and  a  begetter  of  children.  Iberville 
knew  that  this  woman  was  not  more  to  him  than  the 
feeling  just  come  to  him,  but  he  knew  also  that  while 
the  one  remained  the  other  would  also. 

He  stood  up  and  folded  his  arms,  looking  into  the 
silence  and  mist.  His  hand  mechanically  dropped  to 
his  sword,  and  he  glanced  up  proudly  to  the  silver  flag 
with  its  golden  lilies  floating  softly  on  the  slight 
breeze  they  made  as  they  passed. 

"  The  sword  ! "  he  said  under  his  breath.  - "  The 
world  and  a  woman  by  the  sword ;  there  is  no  other 
way." 

He  had  the  spirit  of  his  time.  The  sword  was  its 
faith,  its  magic.  If  two  men  loved  a  woman,  the 
natural  way  to  make  happiness  for  all  was  to  let  the 
sword  do  its  eager  office.  For  they  had  one  of  the 
least-believed  and  most  unpopular  of  truths,  that  a 
woman's  love  is  more  a  matter  of  mastery  and  posses- 


QUI  VIVE! 


117 


sion  than  instinct,  two  men  being  of  comparatively 
equal  merit — and  manners. 

His  figure  seemed  to  grow  larger  in  the  mist,  and 
the  grey  haze  gave  his  hair  a  frosty  coating,  so  that 
age  and  youth  seemed  strangely  mingled  in  him.  He 
stood  motionless  for  a  long  time  as  the  song  went  on — 

"  Qui  Vive  ! 
Who  saileth  into  the  morn, 
Out  of  the  wind  of  the  dawn  f — 
*  Follow,  oh,  follow  me  on  ! ' 
Calleth  a  distant  horn. 
He  is  here — he  is  there — he  is  gone, 
Tall  seigneur  of  the  dawn  I 
Qui  vive  !    Qui  vive  !  in  the  dawn." 

Someone  touched  Iberville's  arm.  It  was  Dollier 
de  Casson.  Iberville  turned  to  him,  but  they  did  not 
speak  at  first — the  priest  knew  his  friend  well. 

"  We  shall  succeed,  abb6,"  Iberville  said. 

"  May  our  quarrel  be  a  just  one,  Pierre !  "  was  the 
grave  reply. 

"The  forts  are  our  king's;  the  man  is  with  my 
conscience,  my  dear  friend." 

"  But  if  you  make  sorrow  for  the  woman  ?  " 

"  You  brought  me  a  gift  from  her ! "  His  finger 
touched  his  doublet. 


%■: 


118 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


>» 


-  I 


"  She  is  English,  my  Pierre.' 

"  She  is  what  God  made  her." 

"  She  may  be  sworn  to  the  man." 

Iberville  started,  then  shook  his  head  incredulously. 
**  He  is  not  worthy  of  her." 

"Are  you ^" 

"  I  know  her  value  better  and  prize  it  more." 

"  You  have  not  seen  her  for  four  years." 

"  I  had  not  seen  you  for  four  years — and  yet ! " 

"  You  saw  her  then  only  for  a  few  days — and  she 
was  so  young ! " 

"  What  are  days  or  years  ?  Things  lie  deep  in  us 
till  some  great  moment,  and  then  they  spring  into  life 
and  are  ours  forever.  When  I  kissed  King  Louis' 
hand  I  knew  that  I  loved  my  king ;  when  De  Monte- 
span's,  I  hated,  and  shall  hate  always.  When  I  first 
saw  this  English  girl  I  waked  from  youth,  I  was  born 
again  into  the  world.  I  had  no  doubts,  I  have  none 
now." 

"And  the  man?" 

"  One  knows  one's  enemy  even  as  the  other. 
There  is  no  way  but  this,  D oilier.  He  is  the  enemy 
of  my  king,  and  he  is  greatly  in  my  debt.  Remember 
the  Spaniards'  country ! " 


(^UI   VI VK! 


119 


He  laid  a  hand  upon  his  sword.  The  face  of  the 
priest  was  calm  and  grave,  but  in  his  eyes  was  a  deep 
fire.  At  heart  he  was  a  soldier,  a  loyalist,  a  gentle- 
man  of  France.  Perhaps  there  came  to  him  then  the 
dreams  of  his  youth,  before  a  thing  happened  which 
made  him  at  last  a  servant  of  the  Church  after  he  had 
been  a  soldier  of  the  king. 

Presently  the  song  of  the  voyageurs  grew  less,  the 
refrain  softened  and  passed  down  the  long  line,  and, 
as  it  were,  from  out  of  far  mists  came  the  muffled 
challenge — 

''  Qui  vive  I  Qui  vive  !  in  the  dawn." 

Then  a  silence  fell  once  more.  But  presently 
from  out  of  the  mists  there  came,  as  it  were,  the  echo 
0^  their  challenge — 

"  Qui  vive  f  Qui  vive  /  in  the  dawn." 

The  paddles  stilled  in  the  water  and  a  thrill  ran 
through  the  line  of  vo)iij_  'irs, — even  Iberville  and  his 
friends  were  touched  by  it. 

Then  there  suddenly  emerged  from  the  haze  on 
their  left,  ahead  of  them,  a  long  canoe  with  tall  fig- 
ures in  bow  and  stern,  using  paddles.     They  wore 

long  cloaks,  and  feathers  waved  from  their  heads.     In 
9 


ri 


i 


IS"  I 


i 


120 


TIIK  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


the  centre  of  the  canoe  was  what  8fc*}med  a  body 
under  a  pall,  at  its  head  and  feet  small  censers.  The 
smell  of  the  wood  came  to  them,  and  a  little  trail  of 
sweet  smoke  was  left  behind  as  the  canoe  swiftly 
passed  into  the  mist  on  the  other  side  and  was 
gone. 

It  had  been  seen  vaguely.  No  one  spoke,  no  one 
challenged ;  it  had  come  and  gone  like  a  dream. 
What  it  was,  no  one,  uot  even  Iberville,  could  guess, 
though  he  thought  it  a  pilgrimage  of  burial,  such  as 
was  sometimes  made  by  distinguished  members  of 
Indian  tribes.  Or  it  may  have  been — which  is  like- 
ly—  a  dead  priest  being  carried  south  by  Indian 
friends. 

The  impression  left  upon  the  party  was,  however, 
characteristic.  There  was  none  but,  with  the  smell  of 
the  censers  in  his  nostrils,  made  the  sacred  gesture ;  and 
had  the  Jesuit  Silvy  or  the  Abbe  de  Casson  been  so 
disposed,  the  event  might  have  been  made  into  the 
supernatural. 

After  a  time  the  mist  cleared  away,  and  nothing 
could  be  seen  on  the  path  they  had  travelled  but  the 
plain  of  clear  water  and  the  distant  shore  they  had 
left.     Ahead  of  them  was  another  shore,  and  they 


QUI  VIVE! 


121 


;liey 


reached  this  at  last.     Where  the  mysterious  canoe  liad 
vanished,  none  could  tell. 

Days  upon  days  they  travelled,  with  incredible 
labour,  now  portaging  over  a  stubborn  country,  now 
placing  their  lives  in  hazard  as  they  shot  down  un- 
travelled  rapids. 

One  day  on  the  Black  Wing  River  a  canoe  was 
torn  open  and  its  three  occupants  were  thrown  into 
the  rapids.  Two  of  them  were  expert  swimmers  and 
were  able  to  catch  the  stern  of  another  canoe  as  it  ran 
by,  and  reached  safe  water,  bruised  but  alive.  The 
third  was  a  boy,  Maurice  Joval,  the  youngest  of  the 
party,  whom  Iberville  had  been  at  first  loth  to  bring 
with  him.  But  he  had  remembered  his  uv/n  ambi- 
tious youth,  and  had  consented,  persuading  De  Troyes 
that  the  lad  was  worth  encouragement.  His  canoe 
was  not  far  behind  when  the  other  ran  on  ^he  rocks. 
He  saw  the  lad  struggle  bravely  and  strike  out,  but  a 
cross  current  caught  him  and  carried  him  towards  the 
steep  shore.  There  he  was  thrown  against  a  rock. 
His  strength  seemed  to  fail,  but  he  grasped  the  rock. 
It  was  scraggy,  and  though  it  tore  and  bruised  him  he 
clung  to  it. 
.  Iberville  threw  off  his  doublet,  and  prepared  to 


ill 

I 


M 

$ 


122 


THE  TUAIL  OF  THE  SWOUD. 


spring  us  his  bout  cuine  down.  lUit  unothcr  hud  made 
ready.  It  wus  the  ubbe,  with  his  cassock  gone,  and 
his  huge  form  showing  finely.  He  laid  his  hand  upon 
Iberville's  arm.  " Stay  here,"  he  said,  "I  go ;  I  am 
the  stronger." 

But  Iberville,  as  cries  of  warning  and  appeal  rang 
out  around  him, — the  drowning  lad  had  not  cried  out 
at  all, — sprang  into  the  water.  Not  alone :  tht;  abbe 
looked  around  him,  made  the  sacred  gesture,  and  then 
sprang  also  into  an  eddy  a  distance  below,  and  at  an 
angle  made  his  way  up  towards  the  two.  Priest 
though  he  was,  he  was  also  an  expert  riverman,  and 
his  vast  strength  served  him  royally.  He  saw  Iber- 
ville tossed  here  and  there  but  with  impossible 
strength  and  good  fortune  reach  the  lad.  The  t^"o 
grasped  each  other  and  then  struck  out  for  the  high 
shore.  De  Casson  seemed  *-  know  what  would  hap- 
pen. He  altered  his  course,  and  making  for  the  shore 
also  at  a  point  below,  reached  it.  He  saw  with  a  kind 
of  despair  that  it  was  steep  and  had  no  trees,  yet  his 
keen  eyes  also  saw,  not  far  below,  the  dwarfed  bole  of 
a  tree  jutting  out  from  the  rock.  There  lay  the 
chance.  Below  this  was  a  great  turmoil  of  rapids.  A 
prayer  mechanically  passed  the  priest's  lips,  though 


QUI   VIVKI 


123 


Ins  thoughts  were  tliose  of  u  wurrior  then.  lie  almost 
enjoyed  the  danger  for  himself :  his  fear  was  for  Iber- 
ville and  for  the  motherless  boy. 

Ho  had  guessed  and  hoped  aright.  Iberville,  sup- 
porting the  now  senseless  boy,  swung  down  the  mad 
torrent,  his  eyes  blinded  with  blood  so  that  he  could 
not  see.  But  he  heard  De  Casson's  voice,  and 
with  a  splendid  etlort  threw  himself  and  the  lad 
towards  it.  The  priest  also  fought  upwards  to  them 
and  caught  them  as  they  came,  having  reserved  his 
great  strength  until  now.  Throwing  his  left  arm 
over  the  lad  he  relieved  Iberville  of  his  burden,  but 
called  to  him  to  hold  on.  The  blood  was  flowing  into 
Iberville's  eyes  and  he  could  do  nothing  else.  But 
now  came  the  fight  between  the  priest  and  the  mad 
waters.  Once — twice — thrice  they  went  beneath,  but 
neither  Iberville  nor  himself  let  go,  and  to  the  appre- 
hensive cries  of  their  friends  there  succeeded  calls  of 
delight,  for  De  Casson  had  seized  the  jutting  bole 
and  held  on.  It  did  not  give,  and  they  were  safe  for 
a  moment. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  below  there  was  smoother 
water,  and  soon  the  canoes  were  ashore,  and  Perrot, 
Sainte-Helene,  and  others  were  running  to  the  rescue. 


124 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


They  arrived  just  m  time.  Ropes  were  let  down,  and 
the  lad  was  drawn  up  insensible.  Then  came  the 
priest,  for  Iberville,  battered  as  he  was,  would  not  stir 
until  the  abbe  had  gone  up — a  stout  strain  on  the 
rope.  Fortunately  there  were  clefts  and  fissures  in 
the  wall,  which  could  be  used  in  the  ascent.  De 
Oasson  had  consented  to  go  first,  chiefly  because  he 
wished  to  gratify  the  still  youthful  pride  of  Iberville, 
who  thought  the  soldier  should  see  the  priest  into 
safety.  Iberville  himself  came  up  slowly,  for  he  was 
stiff  and  his  limbs  were  shaking.  His  clothes  were  in 
tatters,  and  his  fine  face  was  like  that  of  a  warrior 
defaced  by  swords. 

But  he  refused  to  be  carried,  and  his  first  care  was 
for  the  boy,  who  had  received  no  mortal  injury. 

"  You  have  saved  the  boy,  Pierre,"  said  the  priest, 
la  a  low  voice. 

"  Self-abasing  always,  dear  abbe ;  you  saved  us 
both.     By  heaven,  but  the  king  lost  a  great  man  in 


you 


t» 


"  Hush  !    Mere  brawn,  Pierre !  ...  By  the  bless- 
ing of  God,"  he  added  quickly. 


^ 


i'l! 


CHAPTER  XL 


WITH   THE   STRANGE   PEOPLE. 


US 


After  this  came  varying  days  of  hardship  by  land 
and  water,  and  then  another  danger.  One  day  they 
were  crossing  a  great  northern  lake.  The  land  was 
moist  with  the  sweat  of  quick-springing  verdure; 
flocks  of  wild  fowl  rose  at  all  points,  and  herds  of 
caribou  came  drinking  and  feeding  at  the  shore.  The 
cries  of  herons,  loons,  and  river-hens  rose  with  strange 
distinctness,  so  delicate  was  the  atmosphere,  and  the 
blue  of  the  sky  was  exquisite. 

As  they  paddled  slowly  along  this  lake,  keeping 
time  to  their  song  with  the  paddles,  there  suddenly 
grew  out  of  the  distance  a  great  flotilla  of  canoes  with 
tall  prows,  and  behind  them  a  range  of  islands  which 
they  had  not  before  seen.  The  canoes  were  filled 
with  men — Indians  it  would  seem,  by  the  tall  feathers 
lifting  from  tlieir  heads.  A  moment  before  there  had 
been   nothing.      The   sudden    appearance  was  even 

(125) 


126 


THE  TRAIL  OB^  THE  SWORD. 


more  startling  than  the  strange  canoe  that  crossed 
their  track  on  Lake  of  the  Winds.  Iberville  knew 
at  once  that  it  was  a  mirage,  and  the  mystery  of  it 
did  not  last  long  even  among  the  superstitious.  But 
they  knew  now  that  somewhere  in  the  north — pre- 
sumably not  far  away — was  a  large  band  of  Indians, 
possibly  hostile ;  their  own  numbers  fourscore.  There 
was  the  chance  that  the  Indians  were  following  or 
intercepting  them..  Yet,  rilnce  they  had  left  the 
Ottawa  River,  they  had  seen  no  human  being,  save  in 
that  strange  canoe  on  Lake  of  the  Winds.  To  the 
east  were  the  dreary  wastes  of  Labrador,  to  the  west 
were  the  desolate  plains  and  hills,  stretching  to  the 
valley  of  the  Saskatchewan. 

Practically  in  command,  Iberville  advisod  watch- 
fulness and  preparation  for  attack.  Presently  the 
mirage  faded  away  as  suddenly  as  it  came.  For  days 
again  they  marched  and  voyaged  on,  seeing  still  no 
human  being.  At  last  they  came  to  a  lake,  which 
they  crossed  in  their  canoes;  then  they  entered  the 
mouth  of  a  small  river,  travelling  northward.  Tlie 
river  narrowed  at  a  short  distance  from  its  mouth, 
and  at  a  certain  point  the  stream  turned  sharply.  As 
the  first  canoe  rounded  the  point  it  came  full  upon 


WITH  THE  STKANGE  PEOPLE. 


127 


16 


half  a  hundred  canoes  blocking  the  river,  filled  by 
Indians  with  bended  bows.  They  were  a  northern 
tribe  that  had  never  before  seen  the  white  man.  Tall 
and  stern,  they  were  stout  enemies,  but  they  had  no 
firearms,  and,  as  could  be  seen,  they  were  astonished 
at  the  look  of  the  little  band,  which,  at  the  command 
of  De  Troyes,  who  with  Iberville  was  in  the  first  boat, 
came  steadily  on.  Suddenly  brought  face  to  face 
there  was  a  pause,  in  which  Iberville,  who  knew 
several  Indian  languages,  called  to  them  to  make 
way. 

He  was  not  understood,  but  he  had  pointed  to  the 
white  standard  of  France  flaring  with  the  golden 
lilies ;  and  perhaps  the  drawn  swords  and  the  martial 
manner  of  the  little  band — who  had  donned  gay  trap- 
pings, it  being  Iberville's  birthday — conveyed  in  some 
way  his  meaning.  The  bows  of  the  strangers  stayed 
drawn,  awaiting  word  from  the  leader.  Near  the 
chief  stood  a  man  seven  feet  in  height,  a  kind  of 
bodyguard,  who  presently  said  something  in  his  ear. 
He  frowned,  then  seemed  to  debate,  and  his  face 
cleared  at  last.  Raising  a  spear,  he  saluted  the  French 
leaders,  and  then  pointed  towards  the  shore,  where 
there  was  a  space  clear  of  trees,  a  kind  of.  plateau. 


■r* 


■     1| 


128 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


De  Troyes  and  Iberville,  thinking  that  a  truce  and 
parley  were  meant,  returned  the  salute  with  their 
swords,  and  presently  the  canoes  of  both  parties  made 
over  to  the  shore.  It  was  a  striking  sight :  the  grave, 
watchful  faces  of  the  Indians  who  showed  up  grandly 
in  the  sun,  their  skin  like  fine  rippling  bronze  as  they 
moved;  their  tall  feathers  tossing,  rude  bracelets  on 
their  wrists,  while  some  wore  necklets  of  brass  or  cop- 
per. The  chief  was  a  stalwart  savage  with  a  cruel 
eye,  but  the  most  striking  figure  of  all — either  French 
or  Indian — was  that  of  the  chief's  bodyguard.  He 
was,  indeed,  the  Goliath  of  the  tribe,  who,  after  the 
manner  of  other  champions,  was  ever  ready  for  chal- 
lenge in  the  name  of  his  master.  He  was  massively 
built,  with  long  sinewy  arms;  but  Iberville  noticed 
that  he  was  not  powerful  at  the  waist  in  proportion  to 
the  rest  of  his  body,  and  that  his  neck  was  thinner 
than  it  should  be.  But  these  were  items,  for  in  all  he 
was  a  fine  piece  of  humanity,  and  Iberville  said  as 
much  to  De  Casson,  involuntarily  stretching  up  as  he 
did  so.  Tall  and  athletic  himself,  he  never  saw  a  man 
of  calibre  but  he  felt  a  wish  to  measure  strength  with 
him,  not  from  vanity,  but  through  the  mere  instincts 
of  the  warrior.     Priest  as  he  was,  it  is  possible  that 


WITH  THE  STRANGE  PEOPLE. 


129 


De  Casson  shared  the  young  man's  feeling,  though 
chastening  years  had  overcome  impulses  of  youth.  It 
was  impossible  for  the  French  leaders  to  guess  how 
this  strange  parley  would  end,  and  when  many  more 
Indians  suddenly  showed  on  the  banks  they  saw  tliat 
they  might  have  tough  work. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Iberville  ? "  said  De 
Troyes. 

"  A  juggler's  puzzle — let  us  ask  Perrot,"  was  the 
reply. 

Perrot  confessed  that  he  knew  nothing  of  this 
tribe  of  Indians.  The  French  leaders,  who  had  never 
heard  of  Indians  who  would  fight  in  the  open,  were, 
in  spite  of  great  opposing  numbers,  in  warrior  mood. 
Presently  all  the  canoes  were  got  to  land,  and  without 
any  demonstration  the  Indians  filed  out  on  the  centre 
of  the  plateau,  where  were  pitched  a  number  of  tents. 
The  tents  were  in  a  circle,  surrounding  a  clear  space 
of  ground,  and  the  chief  halted  in  the  middle  of  this. 
He  and  his  men  had  scarcely  noticed  the  Frenchmen 
as  they  followed,  seemingly  trusting  the  honour  of  the 
invaders  that  they  would  not  attack  from  behind.  It 
was  these  Indians  who  had  been  seen  in  the  mirage. 
They  had  followed  the  Frenchmen,  had  gone  parallel 


m 


Ir^ 


130 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


with  them  for  scores  of  miles,  and  had  at  last  at  this 
strategic  point  waylaid  them. 

The  conference  was  short.  The  French  ranged  in 
column  on  one  side,  the  Indians  on  the  other,  and 
then  the  chief  stepped  forward.  De  Troyes  did  the 
same,  and  not  far  behind  him  were  Iberville,  the 
other  officers,  and  Perrot.  Behind  the  chief  was  the 
champion,  then,  a  little  distance  away,  on  either  side, 
the  Indian  councillors. 

The  chief  waved  his  hand  proudly  towards  the 
armed  warriors  behind  him,  as  if  showing  their 
strength,  speakit.^  meanwhile,  and  then,  with  ef- 
fective gesture,  remarking  the  handful  of  French. 
Presently,  pointing  to  his  fighting  man,  he  seemed 
to  ask  that  the  matter  be  settled  by  single  com- 
bat. 

The  French  leaders  understood  :  Goliath  would 
have  his  David.  The  champion  suddenly  began  a 
sing-song  challenge,  during  which  Iberville  and  his 
comrades  conferred.  The  champion's  eyes  ran  up 
and  down  the  line  and  lighted  on  the  large  form  of 
De  Casson,  who  calmly  watched  him.  Iberville  saw 
this  look  and  could  not  help  but  laugh,  though  the 
matter  was  serious.     He  pictured  the  good  abbe  fight- 


WITH  THE  STKANGE  PEOPLE. 


131 


up 

of 

saw 

Ithe 

ht- 


ing  for  the  band.  At  this  the  champion  began  to 
beat  his  oreast  defiantly. 

Iberville  threw  off  his  coat,  and  motioned  his 
friends  back.  Immediately  there  was  protest.  They 
had  not  known  quite  what  to  do,  but  Perrot  had  of- 
fered to  fight  the  champion,  and  they,  supposing  it 
was  to  be  a  fight  with  weapons,  had  hastily  agreed. 
It  was  clear,  however,  that  it  was  to  be  a  wrestle  to 
the  death.  Iberville  quelled  all  protests,  and  they 
stepped  back.  There  was  a  final  call  from  the  cham- 
pion, and  then  he  became  silent.  From  the  Indians 
rose  one  long  cry  of  satisfaction,  and  then  they  too 
stilled,  the  chief  fell  back,  and  the  two  men  stood 
alone  in  the  centre.  Iberville,  whose  face  had  become 
grave,  went  to  De  Casson  and  whispered  to  him. 
The  abbe  gave  him  his  blessing,  and  then  he  turned 
and  went  back.  He  waved  his  hand  to  his  brothers 
and  his  friends, — a  gay  Cavalier-like  motion, — then 
took  off  all  save  his  small  clothes  and  stood  out. 

Never  was  seen,  perhaps,  a  stranger  sight :  a  gen- 
tleman of  France  ranged  against  a  savage  wrestler, 
without  weapons,  stripped  to  the  waist,  to  fight  like  a 
gladiator.  But  this  was  a  new  land,  and  Iberville 
could  ever  do  what  another  of  his  name  or  rank  could 


i 


III 


,.^0==^^=^- 


132 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


not.  There  was  only  one  other  man  in  Canada  wlio 
could  do  the  same — old  Count  Frontenac  himself, 
who,  dressed  in  all  his  Court  finery,  had  danced  a 
war-dance  in  the  torchlight  with  Iroquois  chiefs. 

Stripped,  Iberville's  splendid  proportions  could  be 
seen  at  advantage.  He  was  not  massively  made,  but 
from  crown  to  heel  there  was  perfect  muscular  pro- 
portion. His  admirable  training  and  his  splendidly 
nourished  body — cared  for,  as  in  those  days  only  was 
the  body  cared  for — promised  much,  though  against 
so  huge  a  champion.  Then,  too,  Iberville  in  his  boy- 
hood had  wrestled  with  Indians  and  had  learned  their 
tricks.  Added  to  this  were  methods  learned  abroad, 
which  might  prove  useful  now.  Yet  anyone  looking 
at  the  two  would  have  begged  the  younger  man  to 
withdraw. 

Never  was  battle  shorter.  Iberville,  too  proud  to 
give  his  enemy  one  moment  of  athletic  trifling,  ran  in 
on  him.  For  a  time  they  were  locked  straining  ter- 
ribly, and  then  the  neck  of  the  champion  went  with  a 
snap  and  he  lay  dead  in  the  middle  of  the  green. 

The  Indians  and  the  French  were  both  so  dumb- 
founded that  for  a  moment  no  one  stirred,  and  Iber- 
ville went  "back  and  quietly  put  on  his  clothes.    But 


WITH  THE  STRANGE  PEOPLE. 


133 


presently  cries  of  rage  and  mourning  came  from  the 
Indians,  and  weapons  threatened.  But  the  chief 
waved  aggression  down,  and  came  forward  to  the 
dead  man.  He  looked  for  a  moment,  and  then  as 
Iberville  and  De  Troyes  came  near,  he  gazed  at  Iber- 
ville in  wonder,  and  all  at  once  reached  out  both 
hands  to  him.  Iberville  took  them  and  shook  them 
heartily. 

There  was  something  uncanny  in  the  sudden  death 
of  the  champion,  and  Iberville's  achievement  had  con- 
quered these  savages,  who,  axler  all,  loved  such  deeds, 
though  '?.t  the  hand  of  an  enemy.  And  now  the 
whole  scene  was  changed.  The  French  courteously 
but  firmly  demanded  homage,  and  got  it,  as  the 
superior  race  can  get  it  from  the  inferior,  when  events 
are,  even  distantly,  in  their  favour :  and  here  were 
martial  display,  a  band  of  fearless  men,  weapons  which 
the  savages  had  never  seen  before,  trumpets,  and, 
most  of  all,  a  chief  who  was  his  own  champion,  and 
who  had  snapped  the  neck  of  their  Goliath  as  one 
would  break  a  tree-branch. 

From  the  moment  Iberville  and  the  chief  shook 
hands  they  were  friends,  and  after  two  days,  when 
they  parted  company,  there  was  no  Indian  among  all 


Ml 


iXr 


134 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWOKD. 


fi 


this  strange  tribe  but  would  have  followed  him  any- 
where. As  it  was,  he  and  De  Troyes  preferred  to 
make  the  expedition  with  his  handful  of  men,  and  so 
parted  with  the  Indians,  after  having  made  gifts  to 
the  chief  and  his  people.  The  most  important  of 
these  presents  was  a  musket,  handled  by  the  chief  at 
first  as  though  it  were  some  deadly  engine.  The  tribe 
had  been  greatly  astonished  at  hearing  a  volley  fired 
by  the  whole  band  at  once,  and  at  seeing  caribou  shot 
before  their  eyes ;  but  when  the  chief  himself,  after 
divers  attempts,  shot  a  caribou,  they  stood  in  proper 
awe.  With  mutr.al  friendliness  they  parted.  Two 
weeks  later,  after  great  trials,  the  band  emerged  on 
the  shores  of  Hudson's;  Bay  almost  without  baggage 
and  starving. 


r 


CHAPTER  XII. 


OUT    OF    THE    NET. 


The  last  two  hundred  miles  of  their  journey  had 
been  made  under  trying  conditions.  Accidents  had 
befallen  the  canoes  which  carried  the  food,  and  the 
country  through  which  they  passed  was  almost  devoid 
of  game.  During  the  last  three  days  they  had  little 
or  nothing  to  eat.  When,  therefore,  at  night  they 
came  suddenly  upon  the  shores  of  Hudson's  Bay,  and 
Fort  Hayes  lay  silent  before  them,  they  were  ready  for 
desperate  enterprises.  The  high  stockade  walls  with 
stout  bastions  and  small  cannon  looked  formidable, 
yet  there  was  no  man  of  them  but  was  better  pleased 
that  the  odds  were  against  him  than  with  him. 
Though  it  was  late  spring,  the  night  was  cold,  and 
all  were  wet,  hungi  y,  and  chilled. 

Iberville's  first  glance  at  the  bay  and  the  fort 
brought  disappointment.  No  vessel  lay  in  the  har- 
bour, therefore  it  wa3  probiible  Gering  was  not  there. 

10  (135; 


1 
f 


1  ii 


: 


in 


ft 


li 


III 


136 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


But  there  were  other  forts,  and  tliia  one  must  bo 
taken  meanwhile.  The  plans  were  quickly  made. 
Iberville  advised  a  double  attack :  an  improvised  bat- 
tering-ram at  the  great  gate,  and  a  party  to  climb  tho 
stockade  wall  at  another  quarter.  This  climbing 
party  ho  would  himself  lead,  accompanied  by  his 
brother  Sainte-IIel^ne,  Perrot,  and  a  handful  of  agilo 
woodsmen.  He  had  his  choice,  and  his  men  were 
soon  gathered  round  him.  A  tree  was  cut  down  in 
the  woods  some  distance  from  the  shore,  shortened, 
and  brought  down,  ready  for  its  duty  of  battering- 
ram. 

The  night  was  beautiful.  There  was  a  bright 
moon,  and  tho  sky  by  some  strange  trick  of  atmos- 
phere had  taken  on  a  green  hue,  against  which  every- 
thing stood  out  with  singular  distinctness.  The  air 
was  placid,  and  through  the  stillness  came  the  low 
humming  wash  of  the  water  to  the  hard  shore.  The 
fort  stood  on  an  upland,  looking  in  its  solitariness 
like  some  lonely  prison-house,  whf  re  men  went  more 
to  have  done  with  the  world  than  for  punishment. 
Iberville  was  in  that  mood  wherein  men  do  stubborn 
deeds — when  justice  is  more  with  them  than  mercy 
and  selfishness  than  either. 


OUT  OP  THK  NET. 


137 


"  If  you  meet  the  man,  Pierre?"  De  Casson  said 
before  the  party  started. 

"  If  we  meet,  may  my  mind  be  his,  abbe  ?  "  Iber- 
ville laughed  softly.  "  But  he  is  not  here — there  is 
no  vessel,  you  see  !  Still,  there  are  more  forts  on  the 
bay." 

The  band  knelt  down  before  they  started.  It  was 
strange  to  hear  in  that  lonely  waste,  a  handful  of 
men,  bent  on  a  deadly  task,  singing  a  low  chant  of 
penitence — a  "  Kyrie  eleison."  Afterwards  came  the 
benediction  upon  this  buccaneering  expedition,  be- 
hind which  w  3  one  man's  personal  enmity,  a  mer- 
chant company's  cupidity,  and  a  great  nation's  lust 
of  conquest. 

Iberville  stole  across  the  shore  and  up  the  hill 
with  his  handful  of  men.  There  was  no  sound  from 
the  fort ;  all  were  asleep.  No  musket-shot  welcomed 
them,  no  cannon  roared  on  the  night,  there  was  no 
sentry.  What  should  people  on  the  outposts  of  the 
world  need  of  sentries,  so  long  as  there  were  walls  to 
keep  out  wild  animals !  In  a  few  moments  Iberville 
and  his  companions  were  over  the  wall.  Already  the 
attack  on  the  gate  had  begun,,  a  passage  was  quickly 
made,  and  by  the  time  Iberville  had  forced  open  th« 


I 

1^. 


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I'  i 


t 


^vj'' 


n  : 


**  "! 


U!-! 


138 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


doors  of  the  block-house,  his  followers  making  a  wild 
hubbub  as  of  a  thousand  men,  De  Troyes  and  his 
party  were  at  his  heels.  Before  the  weak  garrison 
could  make  resistance  they  were  in  the  hands  of  their 
enemies,  and  soon  were  gathered  in  the  yard — men, 
women,  and  children. 

Gering  was  not  there.  Iberville  was  told  that  he 
was  at  one  of  the  other  forts  along  the  shore :  either 
Fort  Rupert  on  the  east,  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles 
away,  or  at  Fort  Albany,  ninety  miles  to  the  north 
and  west.  Iberville  determined  to  go  to  Fort  Rupert, 
and  with  a  few  followers,  embarking  in  canoes,  assem- 
bled before  it  two  nights  after.  A  vessel  was  in  the 
harbour,  an'1  his  delight  was  keen.  He  divided  his 
men,  senaing  Per^-ot  to  take  the  fort,  while  himself 
with  a  small  .»arty  moved  to  the  attack  of  the  vessel. 
Gering  had  delayed  a  day  too  long.  He  had  intended 
leaving  the  day  before,  but  the  arrival  of  the  governor 
of  the  Company  had  induced  him  to  remain  another 
day ;  entertaining  the  governor  at  supper,  and  toast- 
ing him  in  some  excellent  wine  got  in  Kispaniola. 
So  palatable  was  it  that  all  drank  deeply,  and  other 
liquors  found  their  way  to  the  fo'castle.  Thus  in  the 
dead  of  night  there  was  no  open  eye  on  the  Valiant. 


OUT  OP  THE  NET. 


139 


The  Frenchmen  pushed  out  gently  from  the  shore, 
paddled  noiselessly  over  to  the  ship's  side,  and  clam- 
bered up.  Iberville  was  the  first  to  step  on  deck,  and 
he  was  followed  by  Perrot  and  De  Casson,  who  had, 
against  Iberville's  will,  insisted  on  coming.  Five 
others  came  after.  Already  they  could  hear  the  other 
party  at  the  gate  of  the  fort,  and  the  cries  of  the 
besiegers,  now  in  the  fortyard,  came  clearly  to 
them. 

The  watch  of  the  Valiant  waking  suddenly,  he 
sprang  up  and  ran  forward,  making  no  outcry,  dazed, 
but  bent  on  fighting.  He  came,  however,  on  the 
point  of  Perrot's  sabre  and  was  cut  down.  Mean- 
while Iberville,  hot  for  mischief,  stamped  upon  the 
deck.  Immediately  a  number  of  armed  men  came 
bundling  up  the  hatchway.  Among  these  appeared 
Gering  and  the  governor,  who  thrust  themselves  for- 
ward with  drawn  swords  and  pistols.  The  first  two 
men  who  appeared  above  the  hatchway  were  promptly 
despatched,  and  Iberville's  sword  was  falling  upon 
Gering,  whom  he  did  not  recognise,  when  De  Cas- 
son's  hand  diverted  the  blow.  It  caught  the  shoulder 
of  a  man  at  Gering's  side. 

"  'Tis  Monsieur  Gering ! "  said  the  priest. 


140 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


"  Stop !  Stop ! "  cried  a  voice  behind  these.  "  I 
am  the  governor.     We  surrender." 

There  was  nothing  else  to  do  :  in  spite  of  Gering's 
show  of  defiance,  though  death  was  above  him  if  he 
resisted.     He  was  but  half-way  up. 

"  It  is  no  use,  Mr.  Gering,"  urged  the  governor ; 
"  they  have  us  like  sheep  in  a  pen." 

"Very  well,"  said  Gering  suddenly,  handing  up 
his  sword  and  stepping  up  himself.  "  To  whom  do  I 
surrender  ?  " 

"  To  an  old  acquaintance,  monsieur,"  said  Iber- 
ville, coming  near,  "who  will  cherish  you  for  the 
king  of  France." 

"Damnation!"  cried  Gering,  and  his  eyes  hun- 
gered for  his  sword  again. 

"  You  would  not  visit  me,  so  I  came  to  look  for 
you ;  though  why,  monsieur,  you  should  hide  up  here 
in  the  porch  of  the  world  passeth  knowledge." 

"Monsieur  is  witty,"  answered  Gering  stoutly; 
"  but  if  he  will  grant  me  my  sword  again  and  an  hour 
alone  with  him,  I  shall  ask  no  greater  joy  in  life." 

By  this  time  the  governor  was  on  deck,  and  he 
interposed. 

"  I  beg,  sir,"  he  said  to  Iberville,  "  you  will  see 


OUT  OF  THE  NET. 


141 


(( 


he 


; 


there  is  no  useless  slaughter  at  yon  fort ;  for  I  guess 
that  your  men  have  their  way  with  it." 

"Shall  my  messenger,  in  your  name,  tell  your 
people  to  give  in  ?  " 

"Before  God,  no:  I  hope  that  they  will  fight 
while  remains  a  chance.  And  be  sure,  sir,  I  should 
not  have  yielded  here,  but  that  I  foresaw  hopeless 
slaughter.  Nor  would  I  ask  your  favour  there,  but 
that  I  know  you  are  like  to  have  bloody  barbarians 
with  you — and  we  have  women  and  children ! " 

"We  have  no  Indians,  we  are  all  French,"  an- 
swered Iberville  quietly,  and  sent  the  messenger 
away. 

At  that  moment  Perrot  touched  his  arm,  and 
pointed  to  a  man  whose  shoulder  was  being  bandaged. 
It  was  Radisson,  who  had  caught  Iberville's  sword 
when  the  abbe  diverted  it. 

"  By  the  mass  ! "  said  Iberville ;  "  the  gift  of  the 
saints." 

He  pricked  Radisson  with  the  point  of  his  sword. 
"  Well,  monsieur  renegade,"  he  said,  "  who  holds  the 
spring  of  the  trap  ?  You  have  some  prayers,  I  hope. 
And  if  there  is  no  priest  among  your  English,  we'll 
find  you  one  before  you  swing  next  sundown." 


.-■h 


142 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


Kadisson  threw  up  a  malignant  look,  but  said 
nothing ;  and  went  on  caring  for  his  wound. 

"  At  sunset,  remember.  You  will  see  to  it,  Per- 
rot,"  he  added. 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur,"  said  the  governor.  "  This 
is  an  officer  of  our  company,  duly  surrenc   red." 

"  Monsieur  will  know  this  man  is  a  traitor,  and 
that  I  have  long-standing  orders  to  kill  him  wherever 
found. — What  has  monsieur  to  say  for  him?"  Iber- 
ville added,  turning  to  Gering. 

"As  an  officer  of  the  company,"  was  the  reply, 
"  he  has  the  rights  of  a  prisoner  of  war." 

"  Monsieur,  we  have  met  at  the  same  table  and  I 
cannot  think  you  should  plead  for  a  traitor.  If  you 
will  say  that  the  man " 

But  here  Radisson  broke  in.  "  I  want  no  one  to 
speak  for  me.  I  hate  you  all " — he  spat  at  Iberville — 
**  and  I  will  hang  when  I  must,  no  sooner." 

"  Not  so  badly  said,"  Iberville  responded.  "  'Tis  a 
pity,  Radisson,  you  let  the  devil  buy  you." 

"T'sh!  The  devil  pays  good  coin,  and  I'm  not 
hung  yet,"  he  sullenly  returned. 

By  this  time  all  the  prisoners  save  Gering,  the 
governor,  and  Radisson,  were  secured.    Iberville  or- 


OUT  OP  THE  NET. 


143 


dered  their  disposition,  and  then,  having  set  a  guard, 
went  down  to  deal  with  the  governor  for  all  the  forts 
on  the  bay.  Because  the  firing  had  ceased,  he  knew 
that  the  fort  had  been  captured;  and,  indeed,  word 
soon  came  to  this  effect.  Iberville  then  gave  orders 
that  the  prisoners  from  the  fort  should  be  brought  on 
board  next  morning,  to  be  carried  on  to  Fort  Albany, 
which  was  yet  for  attack.  He  was  ill-content  that 
a  hand-to-hand  fight  with  Gering  had  been  prevented. 

He  was  now  all  courtesy  to  the  governor  and  Ger- 
ing, and  offering  them  their  own  wine,  entertained 
them  with  the  hardships  of  their  travel  up.  He  gave 
the  governor  assurance  that  the  prisoners  should  be 
treated  well  and  no  property  destroyed.  Afterwards, 
with  apologies,  he  saw  them  bestowed  in  a  cabin,  the 
door  fastened,  and  a  guard  set.  Presently  he  went  on 
deck,  and  giving  orders  that  Radisson  should  be  kept 
safe  on  the  after-deck,  had  rations  served  out;  and 
after  eating,  he  drew  his  cloak  over  him  in  the  cabin 
and  fell  asleep. 

Near  daybreak  a  man  came  swimming  along  the 
side  of  the  ship  to  the  small  porthole  of  a  cabin.  He 
paused  before  it,  took  from  his  pocket  a  nail,  and 
threw  it  within.     There  was  no  response,  and   he 


^ff 


144 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


Ill) 


threw  another,  and  again  there  was  no  response. 
Hearing  the  step  of  someone  on  the  deck  above,  he 
drew  in  close  to  the  side  of  the  ship,  diving  under  the 
water  and  lying  still.  A  moment  after  he  reappeared 
and  moved — almost  floated — on  to  another  porthole. 
He  had  only  one  nail  left ;  he  threw  it  in,  and  Ger- 
ing's  face  appeared.  » 

"  Hush,  monsieur ! "  Kadisson  called  up.  "  I  have 
a  key  which  may  fit,  and  a  bar  of  iron.  If  you  get 
clear  make  for  this  side." 

He  spoke  in  a  whisper.  At  that  moment  he  again 
heard  steps  above,  and  dived  as  before.  The  watch 
looked  over,  having  heard  a  slight  noise ;  but  not 
knowing  that  Gering's  cabin  was  beneath,  thought  no 
harm.  Presently  Kadisson  came  up  again.  Gering 
understood  ;  having  heard  the  footsteps. 

"  I  will  make  the  attempt,"  he  said.  "  Can  you 
give  me  no  other  weapon  ?  " 

"  I  have  only  the  one,"  responded  Radisson,  not 
unselfish  enough  to  give  it  up.  His  chief  idea,  after 
all,  was  to  put  Gering  under  obligation  to  him. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  Gering. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  governor,  who  did  not  care 
to  risk  his  life  in  the  way  of  escape. 


OUT  OF  THE  NET. 


145 


Gering  tried  the  key,  but  it  would  not  turn  easily 
and  he  took  it  out  again.  Rubbing  away  the  rust,  ho 
used  tallow  from  the  candle,  and  tried  the  lock  again  ; 
still  it  would  not  turn.  He  looked  to  the  fastenings, 
but  they  were  solid,  and  he  feared  noise ;  he  made  one 
more  attempt  with  the  lock  and  suddenly  it  turned. 
He  tried  the  handle,  and  the  door  opened.  Then  he 
bade  good-bye  to  the  governor  and  stepped  out,  al- 
most upon  the  guard,  who  was  sound  asleep.  Look- 
ing round  he  saw  Iberville's  cloak,  which  its  owner 
had  thrown  off  in  his  sleep.  He  stealthily  picked  it 
up,  and  then  put  Iberville's  cap  on  his  head.  Of 
nearly  the  same  height,  with  these  disguises,  he  might 
be  able  to  pass  for  his  captor. 

He  threw  the  cloak  over  his  shoulders,  stole  silently 
to  the  hatchway,  and  cautiously  climbed  up.  Thrust- 
ing out  his  head  he  looked  about  him,  and  saw  two  or 
three  figures  bundled  together  at  the  mainmast — 
woodsmen  who  had  celebrated  victory  too  sincerely. 
He  looked  for  the  watch,  but  could  not  see  him. 
Then  he  drew  himself  carefully  up,  and  on  his  hands 
and  knees  passed  to  the  starboard  side  and  moved  aft. 
Doing  so  he  saw  the  watch  start  up  from  the  capstan 
where  he  had  been  resting,  and  walk  towards  him. 


if' 


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:if'l 


1'.  1 1, 


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li-*.     jV  1 


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IT 


146 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


He  did  not  quicken  his  pace.  He  trusted  to  his  ruse 
— he  would  impersonate  Iberville,  possessed  as  he  was 
of  the  hat  and  cloak.  He  moved  to  the  bulwarks 
and  leaned  against  them,  looking  into  the  water. 
The  sentry  was  deceived ;  he  knew  the  hat  and  cloak, 
and  he  was  only  too  glad  to  have,  as  he  thought,  es- 
caped the  challenge  of  having  slept  at  his  post;  he 
began  resolutely  to  pace  the  deck.  Gering  watched 
him  closely,  and  moved  deliberately  to  the  stern. 
Doing  so  he  suddenly  came  upon  a  body.  He  stopped 
and  tui-ned  round,  leaning  against  the  bulwarks  as 
before.  This  time  the  watch  came  within  twenty  feet 
of  him,  saluted  and  retired. 

Immediately  Gering  looked  again  at  the  body  near 
him,  and  started  back,  for  his  feet  were  in  a  little 
pool.  He  understood :  Radisson  had  escaped  by  kill- 
ing his  guard.  It  was  not  possible  that  the  crime  and 
the  escape  could  go  long  undetected :  the  watch  might 
at  any  moment  come  the  full  length  of  the  ship.  Ger- 
ing flashed  a  glance  at  him  again, — his  back  was  to 
him  still, — suddenly  doffed  the  hat  and  cloak,  vaulted 
lightly  upon  the  bulwarks,  caught  the  anchor-chain, 
slid  down  it  into  the  water,  and  struck  out  softly  along 
the  side.    Immediately  Radisson  was  beside  him. 


OUT  OP  THE  NET. 


147 


"  Can  you  dive  ? "  the  Frenchman  whispered. 
"  Can  you  swim  under  water?  " 

"  A  little." 

"  Then,  with  me  quick  ! " 

The  Frenchman  dived  and  Gering  followed  him. 
The  water  was  bitter  cold,  but  when  a  man  is  saving 
hia  life  endurance  multiplies. 

The  Fates  were  with  them  :  no  alarm  came  from 
the  ship,  and  they  reached  the  bank  in  safety.  Here 
they  were  upon  a  now  hostile  shore  without  food,  fire, 
shelter,  and  weapons:  their  situation  was  desperate 
even  yet.  Radisson's  ingenuity  was  not  quite  enough, 
sa  Gering  solved  the  problem :  there  were  the  French- 
men's canoes ;  they  must  be  somewhere  on  the  shore. 
Because  Radisson  was  a  Frenchman,  he  might  be  able 
to  impose  upon  the  watch  guarding  the  canoes.  If 
not,  they  still  had  weapons  of  a  kind — Radisson  a 
knife,  and  Gering  the  bar  of  iron.  They  moved 
swiftly  along  the  shore,  fearing  an  alarm  meanwhile. 
If  they  could  but  get  weapons  and  a  canoe  they  would 
make  their  way  either  to  Fort  Albany,  so  warning  it, 
or  attempt  the  desperate  journey  to  New  York. 
Again  fortune  was  with  them.  As  it  chanced,  the 
watch,  suffering  from  the  cold  night  air,  had  gone 


V 


Jv 


i 


if 


m 


I'  -I  j 


us 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


V    I 


into  the  bush  to  bring  wood  for  firing.  The  two 
refugees  stole  near,  and  in  the  very  first  canoe  found 
three  muskets,  and  there  were  also  bags  filled  with 
food.  They  hastily  pushed  out  a  canoe,  got  in,  and 
were  miles  away  before  their  escape  was  discovered. 

Radisson  was  for  going  south  at  once  to  New 
York,  but  Gering  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  at  the 
mouth  of  a  musket  Radisson  obeyed.  They  reached 
Fort  Albany  and  warned  it.  Having  thus  done  his 
duty  towards  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  and  know- 
ing that  surrender  must  come,  and  that  in  this  case 
his  last  state  would  be  worse  than  his  first,  Gering 
proceeded  with  Radisson — hourly  more  hateful  to 
him,  yet  to  be  endured  for  what  had  happened — 
southward  upon  the  trail  the  Frenchmen  had  taken 
northward. 

A  couplo  of  hours  after  Gering  had  thrown  his  hat 
and  cloak  into  the  blood  of  the  coureur  du  lois^  and  slid 
down  the  anchor-chain,  Iberville  knew  that  his  quarry 
was  flown.  The  watch  had  thought  that  Iberville  had 
gone  below,  and  he  again  relaxed,  but  presently  a 
little  maggot  of  wonder  got  into  his  brain.  He  then 
went  aft.  Dawn  was  just  breaking;  the  grey  moist 
light  shone  with  a  naked  coldness  on  land  and  water ; 


OUT  OF  THE  NET. 


149 


wild-fowl  came  fluttering,  voiceless,  past ;  night  was 
still  drenched  in  sleep.  Suddenly  he  saw  the  dead 
body,  and  his  boots  dabbled  in  the  wet ! 

In  all  that  concerned  tht  honour  of  the  arms  of 
France  and  the  conquest  of  the  three  forts,  Hayes, 
Rupert,  and  Albany,  Iberville  might  be  content,  but 
he  chafed  at  the  escape  of  his  enemies. 

"  I  will  not  say  it  is  better  so,  Pierre,"  urged  Do 
Casson ;  "  but  you  have  done  enough  for  the  king. 
Let  your  own  cause  come  later." 

"  And  it  will  come,  abbe,"  he  answered,  with  a 
nonchalant  anger.  "  His  account  grows ;  we  must 
settle  all  one  day.  And  Radisson  shall  swing  or  I  am 
no  soldier — so !  " 


I 


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I 


I' 


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\n 


'\\ 


f 


<2^|)0ct)  ti)e  (2rt)irb. 
CHAPTER  XIII. 

"AS  WATER   UNTO   WINE.'* 

Three  months  afterwards  George  Gering  was  joy- 
fully preparing  to  take  two  voyages.  Perhaps,  in- 
deed, his  keen  taste  for  the  one  had  much  to  do  with 
his  eagerness  for  the  other — though  most  men  find 
getting  gold  as  cheerful  as  getting  married.  He  had 
received  a  promise  of  marriage  from  Jessica,  and  he 
was  also  soon  to  start  with  William  Phips  for  the 
Spaniards'  country.  His  return  to  New  York  with 
the  news  of  the  capture  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  posts 
brought  consternation.  There  was  no  angrier  man 
in  all  America  than  Colonel  Richard  Nicholls ;  there 
was  perhaps  no  girl  in  all  the  world  more  agitated 
than  Jessica,  then  a  guest  at  Government  House. 
Her  father  was  there  also,  cheerfully  awaiting  her 

(150) 


"AS  WATER  UNTO  WIN::." 


151 


marriage  with  Gering,  whom,  since  he  had  lost  most 
traces  of  Puritanism,  lie  liked,  lie  had  long  sus- 
pected the  girPs  interest  in  Iberville ;  if  he  had 
knov/n  that  two  letters  from  him — unanswered — had 
been  treasured,  read,  and  re-read,  he  would  have  been 
anxious.  That  his  daughter  should  marry  a  French- 
man— a  filibustering  seigneur,  a  Catholic,  the  enemy 
of  the  British  colonies,  whose  fellow-countrymen  in- 
cited the  Indians  to  harass  and  to  massacre — was  not 
to  be  borne. 

Besides,  the  Honourable  Hogarth  Leveret,  whose 
fame  in  the  colony  was  now  often  in  peril  because  of 
his  Cavalier  propensities,  and  whose  losses  had  aged 
him,  could  not  bear  that  himself  should  sink  and 
carry  his  daughter  with  him.  Jessica  was  the  apple 
of  his  eye ;  for  her  he  would  have  borne  all  sorts  of 
trials ;  but  he  could  not  bear  to  see  her  called  on  to 
bear  ther..  Like  most  people  out  of  the  heyday  of 
their  ov  n  youth,  he  imagined  the  way  a  maid's  fancy 
ought  to  go. 

If  he  had  known  how  much  his  daughter's  promise 
to  marry  Gering  would  cost  her,  he  would  not  have 
had  it.     But  indeed  she  did  not  herself  guess  it.     She 

had,  with  the  dreamy  pleasure  of  a  young  girl,  dwelt 

11 


1 


152 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


I 


:  f. 


upon  au  event  which  might  well  hold  her  delighted 
memory:  distance,  difference  of  race,  language,  and 
life,  all  surrounded  Iberville  with  an  engaging  fasci- 
nation. Besides,  what  woman  could  forget  a  man 
who  gave  her  escape  from  a  fate  such  as  Buckiaw  had 
prepared  for  her?  But  she  saw  the  hopelessness  of 
the  thin^;  everything  was  steadily  acting  in  Ger- 
ing's  favour,  and  her  father's  trouble  decided  her  at 
last. 

When  Gering  arrived  at  New  York  and  told  his 
story — to  his  credit  with  no  dispraise  of  Iberville, 
rather  as  a  soldier — she  felt  a  pang  greater  than  she 
had  ever  known.  Like  a  good  British  maid,  she  was 
angry  at  the  defeat  of  the  British,  she  was  indigns^nt 
at  her  lover's  failure  and  proud  of  his  brave  escape, 
and  she  would  have  herself  believe  that  she  was  angry 
at  Iberville.  But  it  was  no  use ;  she  was  ill-content 
while  her  father  and  others  cailed  him  buccaneer  and 
filibuster,  and  she  joyed  that  old  William  Drayton, 
who  had  ever  spoken  well  of  the  young  Frenchman, 
laughed  at  their  insults,  saying  that  he  was  as  brave, 
comely,  and  fine-tempered  a  lad  as  he  had  ever  met, 
and  that  the  capture  of  the  forts  was  genius — "  Gen- 
ius and  pith,  upon  my  soul ! "  he  said  stoutly,  "  and 


"AS  WATER  UNTO  WINE." 


153 


if  he  comes  this  way  he  shall  have  a  right  hearty  wel- 
come, though  he  come  to  fight ! " 

In  the  first  excitement  of  Gering's  return,  sorry 
for  his  sufferings  and  for  his  injured  ambition,  she 
had  suddenly  put  her  hands  in  his  and  had  given  her 
word  to  marry  him. 

She  was  young,  and  a  young  girl  does  not  always 
know  which  it  is  that  moves  her :  the  melancholy  of 
the  impossible,  from  which  she  sinks  in  a  kind  of 
peaceful  despair  upon  the  possible,  or  the  flush  of  a 
deep  desire :  she  acts  in  an  atmosphere  of  the  emo- 
tions, and  cannot  therefore  be  sure  of  herself.  But 
when  it  was  done  there  came  reaction  to  Jessica. 
In  the  solitude  of  her  own  room — the  room  above  the 
hallway,  from  which  she  had  gone  to  be  captured  by 
Bucklaw — she  had  misgivings.  If  she  had  been 
asked  whether  she  loved  Iberville,  she  might  have 
answered  no.  But  he  was  a  possible  lover ;  and  every 
woman  weighs  the  possible  lover  against  the  accepted 
one — often,  at  first,  to  fluttering  apprehensions.  In 
this  brief  reaction  many  a  woman's  heart  has  been 
caught  away. 

A  few  days  after  Gering's  arrival  he  was  obliged  to 
push  on  to  Boston,  there  to  meet  Phips.    He  hoped 


1 1 


i 


M 


154 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWOHD. 


that  Mr.  Leveret  and  Jessica  would  accompany  him, 
but  Governor  Nicholls  would  not  hear  of  it  just  yet. 
Truth  is,  wherever  the  girl  went  she  was  light  and 
cheerfulness,  although  her  ways  were  quiet  and  her 
sprightliness  was  mostly  in  her  looks.  She  was  im- 
pulsive, but  impulse  was  ruled  by  a  reserve  at  once 
delicate  and  unembarrassed.  She  was  as  much  beloved 
in  the  town  of  New  York  as  in  Boston. 

Two  days  after  Gering  left  she  was  wandering  in 
the  garden,  when  the  governor  joined  her. 

"  Well,  well,  my  pretty  councillor,"  he  said, — "  an 
hour  to  cheer  an  old  man's  leisure  ?  " 

"  As  many  as  you  please,"  she  answered,  daintily 
putting  her  hand  in  his  arm.  "  I  am  so  very  cheerful 
I  need  to  shower  the  surplus."  There  was  a  smile  at 
her  lips,  but  her  eyes  were  misty.  Large,  brilliant, 
gentle,  they  had  now  also  a  bewildered  look,  which 
even  the  rough  old  soldier  saw.  He  did  not  under- 
stand, but  he  drew  the  hand  further  within  his  arm  and 
held  it  there,  and  for  the  instant  he  knew  not  what 
to  say.  The  girl  did  not  speak ;  she  only  kept  look- 
ing at  him  with  a  kind  of  inward  smiling.  Presently, 
as  if  ho  had  suddenly  lighted  upon  a  piece  of  news  for 
the  difficulty,  he  said,  "  Radisson  has  come." 


"AS  WATER  UNTO  WINE." 


155 


"  Radisson ! "  she  cried. 

"  Yes.  You  know  'twas  he  that  helped  George  to 
escape ! " 

"  Indeed,  no ! "  she  answered.  "  Mr.  Gering  did 
not  tell  me."  She  was  perplexed,  annoyed,  yet  she 
knew  not  why. 

Gering  had  not  brought  Radisson  into  New  York 
— had  indeed  forbidden  him  to  come  there,  or  to  Bos- 
ton, until  word  was  given  him;  for  while  he  felt 
bound  to  let  the  scoundrel  go  with  him  to  the  Span- 
iards' country,  it  was  not  to  be  forgotten  that  the  fel- 
low had  been  with  Bucklaw.  But  Radisson  had  no 
scruples  when  Gering  was  gone,  though  the  proscrip- 
tion had  never  been  withdrawn. 

"We  will  have  to  give  him  freedom,  councillor,  eh? 
even  though  we  proclaimed  him,  you  remember."  He 
laughed,  and  added :  "  You  would  demand  that,  yea 
or  nay." 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Now,  give  me  wisdom,  all  ye  saints !  Why — why? 
Faith,  he  helped  your  lover  from  the  clutches  of  the 
French  coxcomb ! " 

"  Indeed,"  she  answered,  "  such  a  villain  helps  but 
for  absurd  b'^nefits.     Mr.  Gerinp^  might  have  stayed 


■ ; 


I  £■ 


.»' 


■ 


156 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


with  Monsieur  Iberville  in  honour  and  safety  at  least. 
And  why  a  coxcomb  ?  You  thought  different  once ; 
and  you  cannot  doubt  his  bravery.  Enemy  of  our 
country  though  he  be,  I  am  surely  bound  to  speak 
him  well — he  saved  my  life.'' 

Anxious  to  please  her  he  answered :  "  Wise  as 
ever,  councillor.  What  an  old  bear  am  I !  When  I 
called  him  coxcomb,  'twas  as  an  Englishman  hating  a 
Frenchman,  who  gave  Ov  r  tongues  to  gall — a  handful 
of  posts  gone,  a  ship  passed  to  the  spoiler,  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  Company  a  prisoner,  and  our  young  com- 
mander's reputation  at  some  trial!  My  temper  was 
pardonable,  eh,  mistress?" 

The  girl  smiled,  and  added,  "There  was  good 
reason  why  Mr.  Gering  brought  not  Radisson  here, 
and  I  should  beware  that  man.  A  traitor  is  ever  a 
traitor.  He  is  French  too,  and  as  a  good  Englishman 
you  should  hate  all  Frenchmen,  should  you  not  ?  " 

"  Merciless  witch !  Where  got  you  that  wit  ?  If  I 
must,  I  kneel;"  and  he  groaned  in  mock  despair. 
"  And  if  Monsieur  Iberville  should  come  knocking 
at  our  door  you  would  have  me  welcome  him  lov- 
ingly?" 

"Surely;  there  is  peace,  is  there  not?    Has  not 


"AS  WATER  UNTO  WINE." 


157 


the  king,  because  of  his  love  for  Louis,  commanded  all 
goodwill  between  us  and  Canada  ?  " 

The  governor  laughed  bitterly.  "  Much  pity  that 
he  has !  How  can  we  live  at  peace  with  bucca- 
neers ! " 

Their  talk  was  interrupted  here,  but  a  few  days 
later,  in  the  same  garden,  Morris  came  to  them.  *'  A 
ship  enters  harbour,"  he  said,  "and  its  commander 
sends  this  letter." 

An  instant  after  the  governor  turned  a  troubled 
face  on  the  girl,  and  said  :  "  Your  counsel  of  the  other 
day  is  put  to  rapid  test,  Jessica.  This  comes  from 
monsieur,  who  would  pay  his  respects  to  me." 

He  handed  the  note  to  her.  It  said  that  Iberville 
had  brought  prisoners  whom  he  was  willing  to  ex- 
change for  French  prisoners  in  the  governor's  hands. 

Entering  New  York  harbour  with  a  single  vessel 
showed  in  a  strong  light  Iberville's  bold,  almost  reck- 
less, courage.  The  humour  of  it  was  not  lost  on  Jes- 
sica, though  she  turned  pale,  and  the  paper  fluttered 
in  her  fingers. 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  will  treat  him  as  well  as  he  will  let  me,  sweet- 
heart." 


. ,  u 


f 


158 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


Two  hours  afterwards,  Iberville  came  up  the  street 
with  Sainte-Hel6ne,  De  Casson,  and  Perrot — De 
Troyes  had  gone  to  Quebec — courteously  accompanied 
by  Morris  and  an  officer  of  the  New  York  Militia. 
There  was  no  enmity  shown  the  Frenchmen,  for 
many  remembered  what  had  once  made  Iberville 
popular  in  New  York.  Indeed,  Iberville,  whose  mem- 
ory was  of  the  best,  now  and  again  accosted  some 
English  or  Dutch  resident,  whose  face  he  recalled. 

The  governor  was  not  at  first  cordial ;  but  Iber- 
ville's cheerful  soldicrliness,  his  courtier  spirit,  and 
his  treatment  of  the  English  prisoners,  soon  placed 
him  on  a  footing  near  as  friendly  as  that  of  years 
before.  The  governor  praised  his  growing  reputa- 
tion, and  at  last  asked  him  to  dine,  saying  that  Mis- 
tress Leveret  would  no  doubt  be  glad  to  meet  her 


rescuer  again. 


"  Still  I  doubt  not,"  said  the  governor,  "  there  will 
be  embarrassment,  for  the  lady  can  scarce  forget  that 
you  hp'i  her  lover  prisoner.  But  these  things  are  to 
be  endured.  Besides,  you  and  Mr.  Gering  seem  as 
easily  enemies  as  other  men  are  friends." 

Iberville  was  amazed.  So,  Jessica  and  Gering 
were  affianced.    And  the  buckle  she  had  sent  him  he 


s 
1 
f 

a 


"AS  WATER  UNTO  WINE." 


159 


wore  in  the  folds  of  his  lace !  How  could  he  know 
what  comes  from  a  woman's  wavering  sympathies, 
what  from  her  inborn  coquetry,  and  what  from  love 
itself?    He  was  merely  a  man  with  much  to  learn. 

He  accepted  dinner  and  said,  "  As  for  Monsieur 
Gering,  your  Excellency,  we  aru  as  easily  enemies  as 
he  and  Kadisson  are  comrades  in-arms." 

"  Which  is  harshly  put,  monsieur.  W^hen  a  man 
is  breaking  prison  he  chooses  any  tool.  You  put  a 
slight  upon  an  honest  gentleman." 

"  I  fear  that  neither  Mr.  Gering  nor  myself  are 
too  generous  with  each  other,  your  Excellency,"  an- 
swered Iberville  lightly. 

This  frankness  was  pleasing,  and  soon  the  gov- 
ernor took  Iberville  into  the  drawing-room,  where 
Jessica  was.  She  was  standing  by  the  great  fireplace, 
and  she  did  not  move  at  first,  but  looked  at  Iberville 
in  something  of  her  old  simple  way.  Then  she  of- 
fered him  her  hand  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  I  fear  you  are  not  glad  to  see  me,"  he  said  with 
a  smile.  "  You  cannot  have  had  good  reports  of  me 
—no  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  glad,"  she  answered  gently.  "  You 
know,  monsieur,  mine  is  a  constant  debt.     You  do 


ill 


I,  -h 


160 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


not  come  to  me,  I  take  it,  as  the  conqueror  of  Eng- 
lishmen." 

"  I  come  to  you,"  he  answered,  "  as  Pierre  le 
Moyne  of  Iberville,  who  had  once  the  honour  to  do 
you  slight  service.  I  have  never  tried  to  forget  that, 
because  by  it  I  1  oped  I  might  be  remembered — an 
accident  of  ^  *  ce  ju  me.'* 

She  bowed  and  at  first  did  not  speak ;  then  Morris 
came  to  say  that  someone  awaited  the  governor,  and 
the  two  were  left  alone. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten,"  she  began  softly,  breaking 
a  silence. 

"  You  will  think  me  bold,  but  I  believe  you  will 
never  forget,"  was  his  meaning  reply. 

"  Yes,  you  are  bold,"  she  replied,  with  the  demure 
smile  which  had  charmed  him  long  ago.  Suddenly 
she  looked  up  at  him  anxiously,  and,  "  Why  did  you 
go  to  Hudson's  Bay  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  would  have  gone  ten  times  as  far  for  the  same 
cause,"  he  answered,  and  he  looked  boldly,  earnestly 
into  her  eyes. 

She  turned  her  head  away.  "  You  have  all  your 
old  recklessness,"  she  aniwered.  Then  her  eyes  sof- 
tened, and,  "  Ail  your  old  courage,"  she  added. 


"AS  WATER  UNTO  WINE." 


161 


"  I  have  all  my  old  motive." 

"  What  is — your  motive?" 

Does  a  woman  never  know  how  much  such 
speeches  cost?  Did  Jessica  quite  know  when  she 
asked  the  question,  what  her  own  motive  was ;  how 
much  it  had  of  delicate  malice — unless  there  was 
behind  it  a  simple  sincerity  ?  She  was  inviting  sor- 
row. A  man  like  Iberville  was  not  *n  be  counted 
lightly;  for  every  word  he  sowed,  he  9f'  Id  reap  a 
harvest  of  some  kind. 

He  came  close  to  her,  and  looked  as  though  he 
would  read  her  through  and  throug  ..  "  Can  you  ask 
that  question  ?  "  he  said  most  seriously.  "  If  you  ask 
it  because  from  your  soul  you  wish  to  know,  good ! 
But  if  you  ask  it  as  a  woman  who  would  read  a  man's 
heart,  and  then " 

"  Oh,  hush ! — hush ! "  she  whispered.  Her  face 
became  pale,  and  her  eyes  had  a  painful  brightness. 
"  You  must  not  answer.  I  had  no  right  to  ask.  Oh, 
monsieur ! "  she  added,  "  I  would  have  you  always  for 
my  friend  if  I  could,  though  you  are  the  enemy  of 
my  country  and  of  the  man — I  am  to  marry." 

"  I  am  for  my  king,"  he  replied ;  "  and  I  am  ene- 
my of  him  who  stands  between  you  and  me.    For  see, 


\\l 


\t 


1G2 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


Ill 


from  the  hour  that  I  met  you  I  knew  that  some  day, 
even  as  now,  I  should  teU  you  that — I  love  you — in- 
deed, Jessica,  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Oh,  have  pity ! "  she  pleaded.  "  I  cannot  listen 
— I  cannot." 

"  You  shall  listen,  for  you  have  remembered  me 
and  have  understood.  Voildf''  he  added,  hastily 
catching  her  silver  buckle  from  his  bosom.  "  This 
that  yoLi  sent  me,  look  where  I  have  kept  it — on  my 
heart ! " 

She  drew  back  from  him,  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Then  suddenly  she  put  them  out  as  though  to  prevent 
him  coming  near  her,  and  said — 

"  Oh,  no — no !  You  will  spare  me ;  I  am  an  affi- 
anced wife."  An  appealing  smile  shone  through  her 
tears.  "Oh,  will  you  not  go?"  she  begged.  "Or, 
will  you  not  stay  and  forget  what  you  have  said  ?  "We 
are  little  more  than  strangers ;  I  scarcely  know  you ; 
I- 


?» 


"  We  are  no  strangers  !  "  he  broke  in.  "  How  can 
that  be  when  for  years  I  have  thought  of  you — you  of 
me  ?  But  I  am  content  to  wait,  for  my  love  shall  win 
you  yet.    You " 

She  came  to  him  and  put  her  hands  upon  his  arm. 


"AS  WATER  UNTO   WINE'" 


1G3 


"  You  remember,"  she  said,  with  a  touch  of  her  old 
gaiety,  and  with  an  inimitable  ^race,  "what  good 
friends  we  were  that  first  day  we  met?  Let  us  be 
the  same  now — for  this  time  at  least.  Will  you  not 
grant  me  this  for  to-day?" 

"  And  to-morrow  ?  "  he  asked,  inwardly  determin- 
ing to  stay  in  the  port  of  New  York  and  to  carry 
her  off  as  his  wife ;  but,  unlike  Bucklaw,  with  her 
consent. 

At  that  moment  the  governor  returned,  and  Iber- 
ville's question  was  never  answered.  Nor  did  he  dine 
at  Government  House,  for  wora  came  secretly  that 
English  ships  were  coming  from  Boston  to  capture 
him.  He  had  therefore  no  other  resource  but  to  sail 
out  and  push  on  for  Quebec.  He  would  not  peril  the 
lives  of  his  men  merely  to  follow  his  will  with  Jessica. 

What  might  have  occurred  had  he  stayed  is  not 
easy  to  say— fortunes  turn  on  strange  trifles.  The 
girl,  under  the  influence  of  his  masterful  spirit  and 
the  rare  charm  of  his  manner,  might  have — as  many 
another  has — broken  her  troth.  As  it  was,  she  wrote 
Iberville  a  letter  and  sent  it  by  a  courier,  who  never 
delivered  it.  By  the  same  fatality,  of  the  letters 
which  he  wrote  her  only  one  was  received.     This  told 


I 


104 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


her  tluvt  when  he  returned  from  a  certain  cruise  ho 
would  visit  lier  again,  for  ho  was  such  an  enemy  to 
her  country  that  he  was  keen  to  win  what  did  it  most 
honour.  Gering  had  pressed  for  a  marriage  before  lie 
sailed  for  the  Spaniards'  country,  but  she  had  said  no, 
and  when  lie  urged  it  she  had  shown  a  sudden  cold- 
ness. Therefore,  bidding  her  good-bye,  he  had  sailed 
away  with  Phips,  accompanied,  much  against  his  will, 
by  Radisson.  Bucklaw  was  not  with  them,  lie  had 
set  sail  from  England  in  a  trading  schooner,  and  was 
to  join  Phips  at  Port  de  la  Planta.  Gering  did  not 
know  that  Bucklaw  had  share  in  the  expedition,  nor 
did  Bucklaw  guess  the  like  of  Gering. 

Within  two  weeks  of  the  time  that  Phips  in  his 
Bridgwater  Merchant^  manned  by  a  full  crew,  twenty 
fighting  men,  and  twelve  guns,  with  Gering  in  com- 
mand of  the  Swallow^  a  smaller  ship,  got  away  to  the 
south,  Iberville  also  sailed  in  the  same  direction.  lie 
had  found  awaiting  him,  on  his  return  to  Quebec,  a 
priest  bearing  messages  and  a  chart  from  another 
priest  who  had  died  in  the  Spaniards'  country. 


t 

g 
I 

I 
r 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN   WHICH  THE   HUNTERS   AUE  OUT. 

Iberville  had  a  good  ship.  The  Maid  of  Prov- 
ence carried  a  handful  of  guns  and  a  small  but 
carefully  chosen  crew,  together  with  Sainte-IIel(^ne, 
Perrot,  and  the  lad  Maurice  Joval,  who  had  conceived 
for  Iberville  friendship  nigh  to  adoration.  Those 
were  days  when  the  young  were  encouraged  to  adven- 
ture, and  Iberville  had  no  compunction  in  giving  the 
boy  this  further  taste  of  daring. 

Iberville,  thorough  sailor  as  he  was,  had  chosen  for 
his  captain  one  who  had  sailed  the  Spanish  main. 
He  had  commanded  on  merchant  ships  which  had 
been  suddenly  turned  into  men-of-war,  and  was  suited 
to  the  present  enterprise :  taciturn,  harsh  of  voice, 
Si  igularly  impatient,  but  a  perfect  seaman,  and  as 
brave  as  could  be.  He  had  come  to  Quebec  late  the 
previous  autumn  with  the  remnants  of  a  ship  which, 
rotten  when  she  left  the  port  of  Havre,  had  sprung 

(165) 


I  r. 


■I 


lOG 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


¥ 


aleak  in  niid-occan,  liad  met  a  storm,  lost  her  main- 
must,  and  by  tlio  time  she  reached  the  St.  Lawrence 
Jiad  scarce  a  otick  standing.  She  v/as  still  at  Quebec, 
tic(i  up  in  the  bay  of  St.  Charles,  trom  which  she 
would  probably  go  out  no  more.  Her  captain — Jean 
Rerii^ord — had  chafed  on  the  bit  in  the  little  Hotel 
Colbert,  making  himself  more  feared  than  liked,  till 
one  day  he  was  taken  to  Iberville  by  Perrot. 

A  bargain  was  soon  struck.  The  nature  of  the  ex- 
pedition was  not  known  in  Quebec,  for  the  sailors  were 
not  engaged  till  the  eve  of  starting,  and  Perrot's  men 
were  ready  at  his  bidding  without  why  or  wherefore. 
Indeed,  when  the  lUaid  of  Provence  left  the  island  of 
Orleans,  her  nose  seawards,  one  fine  July  morning, 
the  only  persons  in  Quebec  that  knew  her  destination 
wore  the  priest  wlio  had  brought  Iberville  the  chart  of 
the  river,  with  its  accurate  location  of  the  sunken 
galleon,  Iberville's  brothers,  and  Count  Frontenac 
himself — returned  again  as  governor. 

"  See,  Monsieur  n)erville,"  said  the  governor,  as 
with  a  line  show  of  compliment,  in  full  martial  dress, 
with  his  officers  in  gold  lace,  perukes,  powder,  swords, 
and  ribbons,  he  bade  Iberville  good-bye — "  See,  my 
dear  captain,  that  you  find  the  treasure,  or  make  these 


IN   WHICH  TIIK   HUNTEKS  AUK  OUT.        107 


greedy  English  pay  dour  for  it.  They  Imvc  a  long 
start,  but  that  is  nothing,  with  a  ship  under  you  that 
can  show  its  heels  to  any  craft.  1  care  not  so  much 
about  the  treasure,  but  1  pray  you  humble  those  dull 
Puritans,  who  turn  buccaneers  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord." 

Iberville  made  a  gallant  reply,  and,  with  Sainte- 
Ilelene,  received  a  hearty  farewell  from  the  old 
soldier,  who,  now  over  seventy  years  of  age,  was  as 
full  of  spirit  as  when  he  distinguished  himself  at 
Arras  fifty  years  before.  In  Iberville  he  saw  his  own 
youth  renewed,  and  he  foretold  the  high  part  he  would 
yet  play  in  the  fortunes  of  New  France.  Iberville 
had  got  to  the  door  and  was  bowing  himself  out 
when,  with  a  quick  gesture,  Frontenac  stopped  him, 
stepped  quickly  forward,  and  clasping  his  shoulders 
kissed  him  on  each  cheek,  and  said  in  a  deep  kind 
voice,  "  I  know,  man  enfant^  what  lies  behind  this. 
A  man  pays  the  price  one  time  or  another;  he  draws 
his  sword  for  hi«  mistress  and  his  king;  both  forget, 
but  die's  country  remains — remains." 

Iberville    said    nothing,  but    with    an    admiring 

glance   into  the  aged,  iron  face,  stooped  and  kissed 

Frontenac's  hand  and  withdrew  silently.     Frontenac, 
19 


« 


0 


I 


11 


I: 


1G8 


TUE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWOilD. 


proud,  impatient  tyrannical,  was  the  one  man  in  Kew 
France  who  had  a  powerful  idea  of  the  future  of  the 
country,  and  who  loved  her  and  his  king  by  the  law 
of  a  loyal  nature.  Like  Wolsey,  he  had  found  his 
king  ungrateful,  and  had  stood  almost  alone  in 
Canada  among  his  enemies,  as  at  Versailles  among 
his  traducers — imperious,  unyielding  and  yet  forgiving. 
Married  too  at  an  early  age,  his  young  wife,  caring  lit- 
tle for  the  duties  of  maternity  and  more  eager  to  serve 
her  own  ambitions  than  his,  left  him  that  she  might 
share  the  fortunes  of  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier. 

Iberville  had  mastered  the  chart  before  he  sailed, 
and  when  they  were  well  on  their  way  he  disclosed  to 
the  captain  the  object  of  their  voyage.  Berigord  lis- 
tened to  all  he  had  to  sav,  and  at  first  did  no  more 
tlian  blow  tobacco  smoke  hard  before  him.  "  Let  me 
see  the  chart,"  he  said  at  last,  and  scrutinising  it  care- 
fully, added  :  "  Yes,  yes,  'tis  right  enough.  I've  been 
in  the  port  and  up  the  river.  But  neither  we  nor  the 
English  '11  get  a  handful  of  gold  or  silver  thereabouts. 
'Tis  throwing  good  money  after  none  at  all." 

"  The  money  is  mine,  my  captain,"  said  Iberville 
good-humouredly.  "There  will  be  sport,  and  I  ask 
but  that  you  give  me  every  chance  you  can." 


ville 
ask 


IN   WHICH  THE  HUNTERS  ARE  OUT.       109 

"  Look  then,  monsieur,"  replied  the  smileless  man, 
"  I'll  run  your  ship  for  all  she  holds  from  here  to  hell, 
if  you  twist  your  finger.  She's  as  good  a.  craft  as  ever 
I  spoke,  and  I'll  swear  her  for  any  weather.  The 
fighting  and  the  gold  as  you  and  the  devil  agree !  " 

Iberville  wished  nothing  better — a  captain  con- 
cerned only  with  his  own  duties.  Berigord  gathered 
the  crew  and  the  divers  on  deck,  and  in  half  a  dozen 
words  told  them  the  object  of  the  expedition,  and  was 
followed  by  Iberville.  Some  of  the  men  had  been 
with  him  to  Hudson's  Bay,  and  they  wished  nothing 
better  than  fighting  the  English,  and  all  were  keen 
with  the  lust  of  gold — even  though  it  were  for  an- 
other. As  it  was,  Iberville  promised  them  all  a  share 
of  what  was  got. 

On  the  twentieth  day  after  leaving  Quebec  they 
sighted  islands,  and  simultaneously  they  saw  five  ships 
bearing  away  towards  them.  Iberville  was  apprehen- 
sive that  a  fleet  of  the  kind  could  only  be  hostile,  for 
merchant  ships  would  ha'  4iy  sail  together  so,  and  it 
was  not  possible  that  *ney  were  French.  There  re- 
mained the  probability  that  they  were  Spanish  or 
English  ships.  He  had  no  intention  of  running 
away,  but  at  the  same  time  he  had  no  wish  to  fight 


\ 


m 


fi 


I 

t 

1 


170 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORu. 


1  |p 


before  ho  reached  Port  de  la  Planta  and  had  hud  hla 
hour  with  Gering  and  Phips  and  the  lost  treasure. 
Besides,  five  ships  was  a  large  undertaking,  which 
only  a  madman  would  willingly  engage.  However, 
he  kept  steadily  on  his  course.  But  there  was  one 
chance  of  avoiding  a  battle  without  running  away — 
the  glass  had  been  falling  all  night  and  morning. 
Berigord,  when  questioned,  grimly  replied  that  there 
was  to  be  trouble,  but  whether  with  the  fleet  or  the 
elements  was  not  clear,  and  Iberville  did  not  ask. 

He  got  his  reply  effectively  and  duly  however.  A 
wind  suddenly  sprang  up  from  the  north-wesi:,  fol- 
lowed by  a  breaking  cross  sea.  It  as  suddenly  swelled 
to  a  hurricane,  so  that  if  Berigord  had  not  been  for- 
tunate as  to  his  crew  and  had  not  been  so  fine  a  sailor, 
tiie  Maid  of  Provence  mip,l)t  have  fared  badly,  for 
he  kept  all  sail  on  as  Ic  >:■  \s  he  dare,  and  took  it  in 
none  too  soon.  But  so  thoroughly  did  he  know  the 
craft  and  trust  his  men  that  she  did  what  he  wanted ; 
and  though  she  was  tossed  and  hammered  by  the  sea 
till  it  seemed  that  she  must,  with  every  next  wave,  go 
down,  she  rode  into  safety  at  last,  five  hundred  miles 
out  of  their  course. 

The  storm  had  saved  them  from  the  hostile  fleet, 


^^: 


IN  WHICH  THE  HUNTKHS  /RE  OUT.       171 

whicli  had  fared  ill.  They  were  first  scattered,  chen 
two  of  them  went  down,  and  another  was  so  disabled 
that  she  had  to  be  turned  back  to  the  port  they  had 
left,  and  the  remaining  two  were  separated,  so  that 
their  only  course  was  to  return  to  port  also.  As  the 
storm  came  up  they  had  got  within  fighting  distance 
of  the  Maid  of  Provence,  and  had  opened  ineffectual 
fire,  which  she — occupied  with  the  impact  of  the 
storm — did  not  return.  Escaped  the  dangers  of  the 
storm,  she  sheered  into  her  course  again,  and  ran 
away  to  the  south-west,  until  Ilispaniola  came  in 
sight. 


,1  * 


m 


CHAPTER  XV. 


IN   THE   MATTER   OF    BUCKLAW. 


The  Briclf/ water  Merchant  uiid  the  Swallow 
made  the  voyage  down  with  no  set-backs,  having 
fair  weather  and  a  sweet  wind  on  tlieir  quarter  all 
tlie  way,  to  tlie  wild  corner  of  an  island,  where  a 
great  mountain  stands  sentinel  and  a  bay  washes 
upon  a  curving  shore  and  up  the  river  De  la  Planta. 
There  were  no  vessels  i.^  the  harbour  and  there 
was  only  a  small  settlement  on  the  shore,  and  as 
they  came  to  anchor  well  away  from  the  gridiron  of 
reefs  known  as  the  Boilers,  the  prospect  was  hand- 
some :  the  long  wash  of  the  waves,  the  curling  white 
of  the  breakers,  and  the  .rainbow-coloured  water.  The 
shore  was  luxuriant,  and  the  sun  shone  intemperately 
ou  the  6tw  and  the  land,  covering  all  with  a  fine  beau- 
tiful ha^e,  Mke  the  most  exquisite  powder  sifted 
through  the  air.  All  on  board  the  Bridgwater 
Merchant  and   the  Swallow  were   in   liearty  spirits. 

(172) 


IN  THE  MATTER  OF  BUCKLAW. 


f 


173 


There  had  been  some  sickness,  but  the  general  health 
ol  the  expedition  was  excellent. 

It  was  not  till  tlie  day  they  started  from  Boston 
that  Phips  told  Gering  he  expected  to  meet  someone 
at  the  port,  who  had  gone  to  prepare  the  way,  to  warn 
them  by  fires  in  case  of  danger,  and  to  allay  any  op- 
position among  the  natives — if  there  were  any.  But 
he  had  not  told  him  who  the  herald  was. 

Truth  is,  Phips  was  anxious  that  Gering  should 
have  no  chance  of  objecting  to  the  scoundrel  who  had, 
years  before,  tried  to  kidnap  his  now  affianced  wife — 
who  had  escaped  a  deserved  death  on  the  gallows.  It 
was  a  rude  age,  and  men  cf  Phips'  quality,  with  no 
particular  niceness  as  to  women,  or  horror  as  to 
mutiny  when  it  was  twenty  years  old,  compromised 
with  their  conscience  for  expediency  and  gain.  More- 
over, in  his  humorous  way,  Bucklaw,  during  his  con- 
nection with  Phips  in  England,  had  made  himstir 
agreeable  and  resourceful.  Phips  himself  had  sprung 
from  the  lower  orders, — the  son  of  a  small  farmer, — 
and  even  in  future  days,  when  hj  rose  to  a  high 
position  in  the  colonies,  gaining  knighthood  and 
other  honours,  he  had  the  manners  and  speech  of  "  a 
man  of  the  people."    Bucklaw  understood  men :  he 


l| 


174 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWOKD. 


S' 


knew  that  his  only  game  was  that  of  bluntness.  This 
was  why  he  boarded  Pliips  in  Cheapside  without  sub- 
terfuge or  disguise. 

Nor  had  Phips  told  Bucklaw  of  Gering's  coming  ; 
so  that  when  the  Bridgwater  Merchant  and  the 
Sicallotu  anteYcii  Port  de  la  Planta,  Bucklaw  him- 
self, as  he  bore  out  in  a  small  sailboat,  did  not  guess 
that  he  was  likely  to  meet  a  desperate  enemy,  lie 
had  waited  patiently,  and  had  reckoned  almost  to  a 
day  when  Phips  would  arrive.  He  was  alongside  be- 
fore Phips  had  called  anchor.  His  cheerful  counte- 
nance came  up  between  the  frowning  guns,  his  hook- 
hand  ran  over  the  rail,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  on 
deck  facing — Radisson. 

He  was  unprepared  for  the  meeting,  but  he  had 
taken  too  many  chances  in  his  lifetime  to  show  aston- 
isliment.  He  and  Radisson  had  fought  and  parted  ; 
they  had  been  in  ugly  business  together,  and  they 
were  likely  to  be,  now  that  they  had  met,  in  ugly 
business,  again. 

Bucklaw's  tiger  ran  up  to  stroke  his  chin  with  the 
old  grotesque  gesture.  "  Ha !  "  he  said  saucily,  "  cats 
and  devils  have  nine  lives." 

There  was  the  same  sparkle  in  the  eye  as  of  old, 


IN  THE  MATTER  OF  BUCKLAW. 


175 


the  same  buoyant  voice.  For  himself,  he  had  no 
particular  quarrel  with  Iladisson ;  the  more  so  because 
he  saw  a  hang-dog  sulkiness  in  Kadisson's  eye.  It 
was  ever  his  cue  when  others  were  angered  to  be  cool. 
The  worst  of  his  crimes  had  been  performed  with 
an  air  of  humoroug  cynicism,  lie  could  have  great 
admiration  for  an  enemy  s  ich  as  Iberville;  and  he 
was  not  a  man  to  fight  needlessly,  lie  had  a  firm 
belief  that  he  had  been  intended  for  a  high  po- 
sition—  a  great  admiral,  or  general,  or  a  notable 
buccaneer. 

Before  Iladisson  had  a  chance  to  reply,  came 
Phips,  who  could  not  help  but  show  satisfaction  at 
Bucklaw's  presence ;  and  in  a  moment  they  were  on 
their  way  together  to  the  cabin,  followed  by  the  eyes 
of  the  enraged  Rudisson.  Phips  disliked  Radisson ; 
the  sinister  Frenchman,  with  his  evil  history,  was  im- 
possible to  the  open,  bluff  captain.  lie  liad  been 
placed  upon  Phips'  vessel  because  he  knew  the  en- 
trance to  the  harbour  ;  but  try  as  he  would  for  a  kind 
of  comradeship  he  failed  :  he  had  an  ugly  vanity  and 
a  bad  heart.  There  was  only  one  decent  thing  which 
still  clung  to  him  in  rags  and  tatters — the  fact  that 
he  was  a  Frenchman.     He  had  made  himself  hated 


t,i 


1 


;    \ 


176 


THE   TRAIL  OF  THE   SWOUD. 


on  tlie  ship — having  none  of  tlie  cunning  tact  of 
Bucklaw.  As  Phips  and  Hucklaw  went  below,  a  sud- 
den devilry  entered  into  him.  He  was  ripe  for 
quarrel,  eager  for  battle.  His  two  black  eyes  were 
like  burning  beads,  his  jaws  twitched.  If  Bucklaw 
liad  but  met  him  without  this  rough,  bloodless  irony, 
he  might  have  thrown  himself  with  ardour  into  the 
work  of  the  expedition ;  but  he  stood  alone,  and 
hatred  and  war  rioted  in  him. 

Below  in  the  cabin  Phips  and  Bucklaw  were  deep 
in  the  chart  of  the  harbour  and  the  river.  The  plan 
of  action  was  decided  upon.  A  canoe  was  to  be  built 
out  of  a  cotton-tree  large  enough  to  carry  eight  or  ten 
oars.  This  and  the  tender,  with  men  and  divers,  were 
to  go  in  search  of  the  wreck  under  the  command  of 
Bucklaw  and  the  captain  of  the  Stvallo?v,  whose  name 
Phips  did  not  mention.  Phips  himcelf  was  to  remain 
on  the  Bridgwnter  Merchant^  the  Stvallow  lying  near 
with  a  goodly  number  of  men  to  meet  any  possible 
attack  from  the  sea.  When  all  was  planned,  Phips 
told  Bucklaw  who  was  the  commander  of  the  Swal- 
low. For  a  moment  the  fellow's  coolness  was  shaken  ; 
the  sparkle  died  out  of  his  eye  and  he  shot  up  a  fur- 
tive look  at  Phips,  but  he  caught  a  grim  smile  on  the 


IN  THE  MATTER  OF  BUCKLAVV. 


177 


face  of  the  sturdy  sailor,  llo  knew  at  oiiec  there  was 
no  treachery  meant,  and  he  guessed  that  Phips  ex- 
pected no  crisis.  It  was  ever  his  way  to  act  willi 
promptness;  being  never  so  resourceful  a?  when  his 
position  was  most  critical :  he  was  in  the  power  of 
Gering  and  Phips,  and  he  knew  it,  but  he  knew  also 
that  his  game  must  be  a  bold  one. 

"Bygones  are  bygones,  captain,"  he  said;  "and 
what's  done  can't  be  hel2)ed,  and  as  it  was  no  harm 
came  anyway." 

"  Bygones  are  bygones,"  replied  the  otlier,  "  and 
let's  liope  that  Mr.  Gering  will  say  so  too." 

"  Haven't  you  told  him,  sirV  " 

"  Never  a  word — but  I'll  send  for  him  now,  and 
bygones  let  it  be." 

Bucklaw  nodded,  and  drummed  the  table  with  his 
tiger.  He  guessed  why  Phips  had  not  told  Gering, 
and  he  foresaw  trouble.  lie  trusted,  however,  to  the 
time  that  had  passed  since  the  kidnappinjr,  and  on 
Gering's  hunger  for  treasu-e.  Phips  had  compro- 
mised, and  why  not  he?  But  if  Gering  was  bent  on 
trouble,  why,  there  was  t'ne  last  resource  of  the  peace- 
lover!  He  tapped  the  rapier  at  his  side.  He  ever 
held  that  he  was  peaceful,  and  it  is  recorded  that  at 


m 


i'i 


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V  1    ^        ^    ^^k!^    ^        < 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


L£    12.0 


lU 


1.8 


U    11116 


lliii^ 


/ 


/^ 


7 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MSSQ 

(716)872-4503 


178 


THE  'IflAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


the  death  of  an  agitated  victim,  he  begged  him  to 
"  sit  still  and  not  fidget." 

He  laid  no  plans  as  to  what  he  should  do  when 
Gering  came.  Like  the  true  gamester,  he  waited  to 
see  how  he  should  be  placed  and  then  to  draw  upon 
his  resources.  He  was  puzzled  about  Radisson,  but 
Radisson  could  wait;  he  was  so  much  the  superior  of 
the  coarser  villain  that  he  gave  him  little  thought. 
As  he  waited  he  thought  more  about  the  treasure  at 
hand  than  of  either — or  all — his  enemies. 

He  did  not  stir,  but  kept  drumming  till  he  knew 
that  Gering  was  aboard,  and  heard  his  footsteps,  with 
the  captain's,  coming.  He  showed  no  excitement, 
though  he  knew  a  crisis  was  at  hand.  A  cool,  healthy 
sweat  stood  out  on  his  forehead,  cheeks,  and  lips,  and 
his  blue  eyes  sparkled  clearly  and  coldly.  He  rose  as 
the  two  men  apneared. 

Phips  had  not  even  told  his  lieutenant.  But  Ger- 
ing knew  Bucklaw  at  the  first  glance,  and  his  eyes 
flashed  and  a  hand  went  to  his  sword. 

"  Captain  Phips,"  he  said  angrily,  "  you  know  who 
this  man  is  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  guide  to  our  treasure-house,  Mr.  Gering." 

"  His  name  is  Bucklaw — a  mutineer  condemned 


IN  THE  MATTER  OF  BUCKLAW. 


179 


» 


to  death,  the  villain  who  tried  to  kidnap  Mistress 
Leveret." 

It  was  Bucklaw  that  replied.  "  Right — right  you 
are,  Mr.  Gering.  I'm  Edward  Bucklaw,  mutineer,  or 
what  else  you  please.  But  that's  ancient — ancient. 
I'm  sinner  no  more.  You  and  Monsieur  Iberville 
saved  the  maid — I  meant  no  harm  to  her ;  'twas  but 
for  ransom.  I  am  atoning  now — to  make  your  for- 
tune, give  you  glory.  Shall  bygones  be  bygones,  Mr. 
Gering  ?    What  say  you  ?  " 

Bucklaw  stood  still  at  the  head  of  the  table.  But 
he  was  very  watchful.  What  the  end  might  have 
been  it  is  hard  to  tell,  but  a  thing  occurred  which 
took  the  affair  out  of  Gering's  hands. 

A  shadow  darkened  the  companion-way,  and 
Radisson  came  quickly  down.  His  face  was  sinister, 
and  his  jaws  worked  like  an  animal's.  Coming  to 
the  table,  he  stood  between  Gering  and  Bucklaw,  and 
he  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  Bucklaw  was  cool, 
Gering  very  quiet,  and  he  misinterpreted. 

"  You  are  great  friends,  eh,  all  together  ?  "  he  said 
viciously.  "  All  together  you  will  get  the  gold.  It  is 
no  matter  what  one  English  do,  the  other  absolve  for 
gold.    A  buccaneer,  a  stealer  of  women — no,  it  is 


180 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


no  matter!  All  English — all  together!  But  I  am 
French — I  am  the  dirt — I  am  for  the  scuppers.  Bah ! 
I  will  have  the  same  as  Bucklaw — you  see  ?  " 

"  You  will  have  the  irons,  my  friend ! "  Phips 
roared,  and  blew  his  whistle. 

A  knife  flashed  in  the  air,  and  Bucklaw's  pistol 
was  out  at  the  same  instant.  The  knife  caught  Buck- 
law  in  the  throat  and  he  staggered  against  the  table 
like  a  stuck  pig,  the  bullet  hit  Radisson  in  the  chest 
and  he  fell  back  against  the  wall,  his  pistol  dropping 
from  his  hand.  Bucklaw,  bleeding  heavily,  lurched 
forward,  pulled  himself  together,  and,  stooping,  emp- 
tied his  pistol  into  the  moaning  Radisson.  Then  he 
sank  on  his  knees,  snatched  the  dropped  pistol,  and 
fired  again  into  Radisson's  belly ;  after  which,  with 
a  last  effort,  he  plunged  his  own  dagger  into  the 
throat  of  the  dying  man,  and,  with  his  fingers  still  on 
the  handle,  fell  with  a  gurgling  laugh  across  the 
Frenchman's  body. 

Radisson  recovered  for  an  instant.  He  gave  a 
hollow  cry,  drew  the  knife  from  his  own  throat,  and, 
with  a  wild,  shambling  motion,  struck  at  the  motion- 
less Bucklaw,  pinning  an  arm  to  the  ground.  Then 
lie  muttered  an  oath  and  fell  back  dead. 


IN  THE  MATTER  OF  BUCKLAW. 


181 


I  am 
Bah! 


The  tournament  of  blood  was  over.  So  swift  had 
it  been  there  was  no  chance  to  interfere.  Besides, 
Gering  was  not  inclined  to  save  the  life  of  either; 
while  Phips,  who  now  knew  the  chart,  as  he  thought, 
as  well  as  Bucklaw,  was  not  concerned,  though  he 
liked  the  mutineer. 

For  a  moment  they  both  looked  at  the  shambles 
without  speaking.  Sailors  for  whom  Phips  had 
whistled  crowded  the  cabin. 

"A  damned  bad  start,  Mr.  Gering!"  Phips  said, 
as  he  moved  towards  the  bodies. 

"  For  them,  yes ;  but  they  might  have  given  us 
a  bad  ending." 

"  For  the  Frenchman,  he's  got  less  than  was  brew- 
ing for  him,  but  Bucklaw  was  a  humorous  dog." 

As  he  said  this  he  stooped  to  Bucklaw  and 
turned  him  over,  calling  to  the  sailors  to  clean  the 
red  trough  and  bring  the  dead  men  on  deck,  but 
presently  he  cried,  "By  the  devil's  tail,  the  fellow 
lives!  Here,  a  hand  quick,  you  lubbers,  and  fetch 
the  surgeon ! " 

Bucklaw  was  not  dead.  He  had  got  two  ugly 
wounds  and  was  bleeding  heavily,  but  his  heart  still 
beat.    Radisson's  body  was    carried    on    deck,  and 


.III! 


182 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


within  half  an  hour  was  dropped  into  the  deep.  The 
surgeon,  however,  would  not  permit  Bucklaw  to  be 
removed  until  he  had  been  eared  for,  and  so  Phips 
and  Gering  went  on  deck  and  made  preparations  for 
the  treasure-hunt.  A  canoe  was  hollowed  out  by  a 
dozen  men  in  a  few  hours,  the  tender  was  got  ready, 
the  men  and  divers  told  off,  and  Gering  took  com- 
mand of  the  searching  party,  while  Phips  remained 
on  the  ship. 

They  soon  had  everything  ready  for  a  start  in  the 
morning.  Word  was  brought  that  Bucklaw  still 
lived,  but  was  in  a  high  fever,  and  that  the  chances 
were  all  against  him  ;  and  Phips  sent  cordials  and 
wines  from  his  own  stores,  and  asked  that  news  be 
bro'ight  to  him  of  any  change. 

"d]arly  in  the  morning  Gering,  after  having  received 
instrdctions  from  Phips,  so  far  as  he  knew  (for  Buck- 
law  had  not  told  all  that  was  necessary),  departed 
for  the  river.  The  canoe  and  tender  went  up  the 
stream  a  distance,  and  began  to  work  down  from  the 
farthest  point  indicated  in  the  chart.  Gering  con- 
tinued in  the  river  nearly  all  day,  and  at  night 
camped  on  the  shore.  The  second  day  brought  no 
better  luck,  nor  yet  the  third :  the  divers  had  seen  no 


IN  THE  MATTER  OP  BUCKLAW. 


183 


Testige  of  a  wreck,  nor  any  sign  of  treasure — nothing 
except  four  skeletons  in  a  heap,  tied  together  with  a 
chain,  where  the  water  was  deepest.  These  were  the 
dead  priests,  for  whom  Bucklaw  could  account.  The 
water  was  calm,  the  tide  rising  and  falling  gently, 
and  when  they  arrived  among  what  was  called  the 
Shallows,  they  could  see  plainly  to  the  bottom.  They 
passed  over  the  Boilers,  a  reef  of  shoals,  and  here 
they  searched  diligently,  but  to  no  purpose;  the 
divers  went  down  frequently,  but  could  find  nothing. 
The  handful  of  natives  in  the  port  came  out  and 
looked  on  apathetically;  one  or  two  Spaniards  also 
came,  but  they  shrugged  their  shoulders  and  pitied 
the  foolish  adventurers.  Gering  had  the  power  of 
inspiring  his  men,  and  Phips  was  a  martinet  and  was 
therefore  obeyed  ;  but  the  lifeless  days  and  unre- 
warded labour  worked  on  the  men,  and  at  last  the 
divers  shirked  their  task. 

Meanwhile,  Bucklaw  was  fighting  hard  for  life. 

As  time  passed,  the  flush  of  expectancy  waned ; 
the  heat  was  great,  the  waiting  seemed  endless.  Ad- 
venture was  needed  for  the  spirits  of  the  men,  and  of 
this  now  there  was  nothing.     Morning  after  morning 

the  sun  rose  in  a  moist,  heavy  atmosphere ;  day  after 
13 


184 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


day  went  in  a  quest  which  became  dreary,  and  night 
after  night  settled  upon  discontent.  Then  came 
threats.  But  this  was  chiefly  upon  the  Bridgwater 
Merchant.  Phips  had  picked  up  his  sailors  in  Eng- 
lish ports,  and  nearly  all  of  them  were  brutal  adven- 
turers. They  were  men  used  to  desperate  enterprises, 
and  they  had  flocked  to  him  because  they  smelled 
excitement  and  booty.  Of  ordinary  merchant  sea- 
men there  were  only  a  few.  When  the  Duke  of 
Albemarle  had  come  aboard  at  Plymouth  before  they 
set  nail,  he  had  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  the  motley 
crew.  To  his  hint  Phips  had  only  replied  with  a 
laugh :  these  harum-scarum  scamps  were  more  to 
his  mind  than  ordinary  seamen.  At  heart  he  him- 
self was  half-barbarian.  It  is  possible  he  felt  there 
might  some  time  be  a  tug-of-war  on  board,  but  he 
did  not  borrow  trouble.  Bucklaw  had  endorsed 
every  man  that  he  had  chosen ;  indeed,  Phips  knew 
that  many  of  them  were  old  friends  of  Bucklaw. 
Again,  of  this  he  had  no  fear ;  Bucklaw  was  a  jr>au 
of  desperate  deeds,  but  he  knew  that  in  himself 
Bucklaw  had  a  master.  Besides,  he  would  pick  up 
in  Boston  a  dozen  men  upon  whom  he  could  depend  ; 
&nd  cowardice  had  no  place  in  him.     Again,  the 


IN  THE  MATTER  OP  BUCKLAW. 


185 


Swalloio^  commanded  by  Gering,  was  fitted  out  with 
New  England  seamen;  and  on  these  dependence 
could  be  put. 

Therefore,  when  there  came  rumblings  of  mutiny 
on  the  Bridgwater  Merchant^  t  lere  was  faithful, 
if  gloomy,  obedience,  on  the  Swallow.  Had  there 
been  plenty  of  \^ork  to  do,  had  they  been  at  sea 
instead  of  at  anchor,  the  nervousness  would  have 
been  small;  but  idleness  begot  irritation,  and  irri- 
tation mutiny.  Or  had  Bucklaw  been  on  deck,  in- 
stead of  in  the  surgeon's  cabin  playing  a  hard  game 
with  death,  matters  might  not  have  gone  so  far  as 
they  did;  for  he  would  have  had  immediate  personal 
influence,  repressive  of  revolt.  As  it  was,  Phips  had 
to  work  the  thing  oui;  according  to  his  own  lights. 
One  afternoon,  when  Gering  was  away  with  the 
canoes  on  the  long  search,  the  crisis  came.  It  was  a 
day  when  life  seemed  to  stand  still ;  a  creamy  haze 
ingrained  with  delicate  blue  had  settled  on  land  and 
sea;  the  long  white  rollers  slowly  travelled  over  the 
Boilers,  and  the  sea  rocked  like  a  great  cradle.  In- 
definitenoss  of  thought,  of  time,  of  event,  seemed 
over  all ;  on  board  the  two  ships  life  swung  idly  as 
a  hammock ;  but  only  so  in  appearance. 


i 


186 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


Phips  was  leaning  against  the  deck-house,  watch- 
ing tlirough  liis  glass  the  search-Canoes.  Presently 
he  turned  and  walked  aft.  As  he  did  so  the  surgeon 
and  the  chief  mate  came  running  towards  him.  They 
had  not  time  to  explain,  for  came  streaming  upon 
deck  a  crowd  of  mutineers.  Phips  did  not  hesitate 
an  instant;  he  had  no  fear — he  was  swelling  with 
anger. 

"Why  now,  you  damned  dogs  I"  he  blurted  out, 
"what  mean  you  by  this?  What's  all  this  show  of 
cutlasses  ?  " 

The  ringleader  stepped  forward.  "  We're  sick  of 
doing  nothing,"  he  answered.  "We've  come  on  a 
wild-goose  chase.  There's  no  treasure  here.  Wo 
mean  you  no  harm  ;  we  want  not  the  shijj  out  of  your 


hands. 


»» 


"  Then,"  cried  Phips,  "  in  the  name  of  all  the 
devils,  wl  at  want  you  ?  " 

"  Here's  as  we  think :  there's  nothing  to  be  got 
out  of  this  hunt,  but  there's  treasure  on  the  high  seas 
all  the  same.  Here's  our  offer:  keep  command  of 
your  ship — and  run  up  the  black  flag ! " 

Phips'  arm  shot  out  and  dropped  the  man  to  the 
ground. 


L  n 


IN  THE  MATTRR  OF  BUCKLAW. 


187 


to  the 


"  That's  it,  you  filthy  rogncs  ?  "  lio  rourcd.  "  Mc 
to  turu  pirate,  eh  ?  You'd  set  to  weaving  ropes  for 
the  necks  of  every  one  of  us — blood  of  my  soul." 

He  seemed  not  to  know  that  cutlasses  were  threat- 
ening him,  not  to  be  aware  that  the  man  at  his  feet, 
clutching  his  weapon,  was  mad  with  rage. 

"  Now  look,"  he  said,  in  a  big  loud  voice,  "  I  know 
that  treasure  is  here,  and  I  know  we'll  find  it :  if  not 
now,  when  we  get  Bucklaw  on  his  feet." 

*'  Ay !  Bucklaw  !  Bucklaw !  "  ran  through  the 
throng. 

"  Well,  then,  Bucklaw,  as  you  say !  Now  here's 
what  I'll  do,  scoundrels  though  you  be.  Let  me  hear 
no  more  of  this  foolery,  stick  to  me  till  the  treasure's 
found, — for  God  take  my  soul  if  I  leave  this  bay  till  I 
have  found  it ! — and  you  shall  have  good  share  of 
booty." 

He  had  grasped  the  situation  with  such  courage 
that  the  mutineers  hesitated.  He  saw  his  advantage 
and  followed  it  up,  asking  for  three  of  their  number 
to  confer  with  him  as  to  a  bond  upon  his  proposal. 
After  a  time  the  mutineers  consented,  the  bond  was 
agreed  to,  and  the  search  went  on. 


^ 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IN   THE  TREASURE   HOUSE. 

The  canoes  and  tender  kept  husking  up  down 
^.mong  the  Shallows,  finding  nothing.  At  last  one 
morning  they  pushed  out  from  the  side  of  the  Briily- 
water  Merchant,  more  limp  than  ever.  The  stroke  of 
the  oars  was  listless,  but  a  Boston  sailor  of  a  merry 
sort  came  to  a  cheery  song — 

"  I  knows  a  town,  an'  it's  a  fine  town, 

And  many  a  brig  goes  sailin'  to  its  quay; 
I  knows  an  inn,  an'  it's  a  fine  inn, 

An'  a  lass  that's  fair  to  see. 
I  knows  a  town,  an'  it's  a  fine  town; 

I  knows  an  inn,  an'  it's  a  fine  inn — 
But  0  my  lass!  an'  0  the  gay  gown, 

Which  I  have  seen  my  pretty  in ! 


"  I  knows  a  port,  an'  it's  a  good  port, 
An'  many  a  brig  is  ridin'  easy  there ; 
I  knows  a  home,  an'  it's  a  good  home, 
An'  a  lass  that's  sweet  an'  fair. 

(188) 


IN  TIIK  TREASrilK  HOUSE. 


189 


I  knowH  a  port,  an'  it's  a  good  port, 
1  knows  a  homo,  an'  it  s  a  good  homo — 

But  O  the  pretty  that  is  ray  sort, 
That's  wearyin'  till  I  come! 

"I  knows  a  day,  an'  it's  a  fine  day. 

The  day  a  sailor  man  comes  back  to  town. 
I  knows  a  tide,  an'  it's  a  good  tide. 

The  tide  that  gets  you  quick  to  anchors  down. 
I  knows  a  day,  an'  it's  a  fine  day, 

I  knows  a  tide,  an"  it's  a  good  tide — 
And  God  help  the  lubber,  1  say, 

That's  stole  the  sailor  man's  bride!" 

The  song  had  its  way  with  them  and  they  joined 
in,  and  lay  to  their  oars  with  almost  too  much  good- 
will. Gering,  his  arms  upon  the  side  of  the  canoe, 
was  looking  into  the  water  idly.  It  was  clear  far 
down,  and  presently  he  saw  what  seemed  a  feather 
growing  out  of  the  side  of  a  rock.  It  struck  him  as 
strange,  and  he  gave  word  to  back  water.  They  were 
just  outside  the  Boilers  in  deep  water.  Drawing  back 
carefully,  he  saw  the  feather  again,  and  ordered  one 
of  the  divers  to  go  down. 

They  could  seo  the  man  descend  and  gather  the 
feather,  then  he  plunged  deeper  still  and  they  lost 
sight  of  him.  But  soon  he  came  up  rapidly,  and  was 
quickly  inside  the  boat,  to  tell  Gering  that  he  had 


)  i 

^ 


190 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


II 

i. 


seen  several  great  guns.  At  this  the  crew  peered  over 
the  beat-side  eagerly.  Gering's  heart  beat  hard.  He 
knew  what  it  was  to  rouse  wild  hope  and  then  to  see 
despair  follow,  but  he  kept  an  outward  calm  and  told 
the  diver  to  go  down  again.  Time  seemed  to  stretch 
to  hours  before  they  saw  the  man  returning  with 
something  in  his  arm.  He  handed  up  his  prize,  and 
behold  it  was  a  pig  of  silver ! 

The  treasure  was  found ;  and  there  went  up  a  great 
cheer.  All  was  activity,  for,  apart  from  the  delight  of 
discovery,  Pbips  had  promised  a  share  to  every  man. 
The  place  was  instantly  buoyed,  and  they  hastened 
back  to  the  port  with  the  grateful  tidings  to  Phips. 
With  his  glass  he  saw  them  coming,  and  by  their 
hard  rowing  he  guessed  that  they  had  news.  When 
they  came  within  hail  they  cheered,  and  when  they 
saw  the  siher  the  air  rang  with  shouts. 

As  Gering  stepped  on  board  with  the  silver.  Cap- 
tain Phips  ran  forward,  clasped  it  in  both  hands,  and 
cried,  "  We  are  all  made,  thanks  be  to  God  ! " 

Then  all  hands  were  ordered  on  board,  and  be- 
cause the  treasure  lay  in  a  safe  anchorage  they  got 
the  ships  away  towards  it. 

Bucklaw,  in  the  surgeon's  cabin,  was  called  out 


IN  THE  TREASURE  HOUSE. 


191 


1  over 
He 
to  see 
itold 
;retch 
with 
!,  and     * 


be- 
got 

out 


of  delirium  by  the  noise.  He  was  worn  almost  to  a 
skeleton,  his  eyes  were  big  and  staring,  his  face  had 
Jie  paleness  of  death.  The  return  to  consciousness 
was  sudden — perhaps  nothing  else  could  have  called 
him  back.  He  wriggled  out  of  bed  and,  supporting 
himself  against  the  wall,  made  his  way  to  the  door, 
and  crawled  away,  mumbling  to  himself  as  he  went. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  Phips  and  Gering  were 
talking  in  the  cabin.  Phips  was  weighing  the  silver 
up  and  down  in  his  hands. 

"  At  least  three  hundred  good  guineas  here ! "  he 
said. 

There  was  a  shuffling  behind  them,  and  as  Phips 
turned,  a  figure  lunged  on  him,  clutched  the  silver 
and  hugged  it ;  it  was  Bucklaw. 

"  Mine !  mine ! "  he  called  in  a  hoarse  voice,  with 
great  gluttonous  eyes.  "  All  mine ! "  he  cried  again. 
Then  he  gasped  and  came  to  the  ground  in  ?i  heap, 
with  the  silver  hugged  in  his  arms.  All  at  once  he 
caught  at  his  throat ;  the  bandage  of  his  wound  fell 
away  and  there  was  a  rush  of  blood  over  the  silver. 
With  a  wild  laugh  he  plunged  face  forward  on  the 
metal — and  the  blood  of  the  dead  Bucklaw  conse- 
crated the  first  fruits  of  the  treasure. 


192 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


As  the  vessel  rode  up  the  harbour  the  body  was 
dropped  into  the  deep. 

"Worse  men  —  worse  men,  sir,  bide  with  the 
king,"  said  Phips  to  Gering.  "A  merry  villain, 
Bucklaw ! " 

The  ship  came  to  anchor  at  the  buoys,  and  no 
time  was  lost.  Divers  were  sent  down,  and  by  great 
good  luck  found  the  room  where  the  bullion  was 
stored.  The  number  of  divers  was  increased,  and 
the  work  of  raising  the  bullion  went  on  all  that  day. 
There  is  nothing  like  the  lust  for  gold  in  the  hearts 
of  men.  From  stem  to  stern  of  the  Bridywater 
Merchant  and  the  Swalloiu  this  wild  will  had  its  way. 
Work  went  on  until  the  last  moment  of  sun.  That 
night  talk  was  long  and  sleep  short,  and  work  was 
on  again  at  sunrise.  In  three  days  they  took  up 
thirty-two  tons  of  bullion.  In  the  afternoon  of  the 
third  day  the  storeroom  was  cleared;  and  then  they 
searched  the  hold.  Here  they  found,  cunningly  dis- 
tributed among  the  ballast,  a  great  many  bags  of 
pieces-of-eight.  These,  having  lain  in  the  water  so 
long,  were  crusted  with  a  strong  substance,  which 
they  had  to  break  with  iron  bars.  It  was  reserved  for 
Phips  himself  to  make  the  grand  discovery.      He 


IN  THE  TREASURE  HOUSE. 


103 


i 


donned  a  diving-suit  and  went  below  to  the  sunken 
galleon.  Silver  and  gold  had  been  found,  but  he 
was  sure  there  were  other  treasures.  After  much 
searching  he  found,  in  a  secret  place  of  the  captain's 
cabin,  a  chest,  which,  on  being  raised  and  broken 
open,  was  found  full  of  pearls,  diamonds  and  other 
precious  stones. 

And  now  the  work  was  complete,  and  on  board 
the  Bridgwater  Merchant  was  treasure  to  the  sum  of 
three  hundred  thousand  pounds  and  more.  Joyfully 
did  Phips  raise  anchor.  But  first  he  sent  to  the 
handful  of  people  in  the  port  a  liberal  gift  of  money 
and  wine  and  provisions  from  the  ship's  stores.  With 
a  favourable  breeze  he  got  away  agreeably,  and  was 
clear  of  the  harbour  and  cleaving  northward  before 
sunset — the  Sivalloto  leading  the  treasure-ship  like  a 
pilot.  All  was  joy  and  hilarity ;  but  there  remained 
one  small  danger  yet ;  they  had  raised  their  treasure 
unmolested,  but  could  they  bring  it  to  Boston  and  on 
to  England?  Phips  would  have  asked  that  question 
very  seriously  indeed  had  he  known  that  the  Maid  of 
Provence  was  bowling  out  of  the  nor'-east  towards 
the  port  which  he  had  just  left. 

The  Maid  of  Provence  had  had  a  perilous  travel. 


I' 


(' 


194 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


Escaping  the  English  warships,  she  fell  in  with  a 
pirate  craft.  She  closed  with  it,  plugged  it  with  can- 
non-shot, and  drew  oif,  then  took  the  wind  on  her 
beam  and  came  drifting  down  on  her,  boarded  her, 
and,  after  a  swift  and  desperate  fight,  kilW  every 
pirate-rogue  save  one — the  captain — whom  for  reasons 
they  made  a  prisoner.  Then  they  sank  the  rover, 
and  got  away  to  Port  de  la  Planta  as  fast  as  they  were 
able.  But  by  reason  of  the  storm  and  the  fighting, 
and  drifting  out  of  their  course,  they  had  lost  ten 
days ;  and  thus  it  was  they  reached  the  harbour  a  few 
hours  after  the  Bridgiuater  Merchant  and  the  Swal- 
low had  left. 

They  waited  till  morning  and  sailed  cautiously  in 

— to  face  disappointment.  They  quickly  learned  the 
truth  from  the  natives.  There  was  but  one  thing  to 
do,  and  Iberville  lost  no  time.  A  few  hours  to  get 
fresh  water  and  fruit  and  to  make  some  repairs,  for 
the  pirate  had  not  been  idle  in  the  fight — and  then 
Berigord  gave  the  nose  of  the  good  little  craft  to  the 
sea,  and  drove  her  on  with  an  honest  wind,  like  a 
hound  upon  the  scent.  Iberville  was  vexed,  but  not 
unduly ;  he  had  the  temper  of  a  warrior  who  is  both 
artist  and  gamester.     As  he  said  to  Perrot,  "  Well, 


IN  THE  TREASURE  HOUSE. 


195 


I 


Nick,  they've  saved  us  the  trouble  of  lifting  the 
treasure  ;  we'll  see  now  who  shall  beach  it." 

He  guessed  that  the  English  ships  would  sail  to 
Boston  for  better  arming  ere  they  ventured  to  the 
English  Channel.  He  knew  the  chances  were  against 
him,  but  it  was  his  cue  to  keep  heart  in  his  follow- 
ers. For  days  they  sailed  without  seeing  a  single 
ship ;  then  three  showed  upon  the  horizon  and  faded 
away.  They  kept  on,  passing  Florida  and  Carolina, 
hoping  to  reach  Boston  before  the  treasure-ships,  and 
to  rob  them  at  their  own  door.  Their  chances  were 
fair,  for  the  Maid  of  Provence  had  proved  swift,  good- 
tempered  and  a  sweet  sailor  in  bad  waters. 

Iberville  had  reckoned  well.  One  evening,  after  a 
sail  northward  as  fine  as  the  voyage  down  was  dirty, 
they  came  up  gently  within  forty  miles  of  Boston, 
and  then,  because  there  was  nothing  else  to  do,  went 
idling  up  and  down  ail  night,  keeping  watch.  The 
next  morning  there  was  a  mist  in  the  air,  which 
might  come  fog.  Iberville  had  dreaded  this ;  but  he 
was  to  have  his  chance,  for  even  when  Berigord's  face 
loured  most  the  lookout  from  the  shrouds  called  down 
that  he  sighted  two  ships.  They  were  making  for 
the  coast.     All  sail  was  put  on,  they  got  ajvay  to  meet 


m 


'% 


t 

I 


! 


196 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


the  new-comers,  and  they  were  not  long  in  finding 
tliese  to  be  their  quarry. 

Phips  did  not  think  that  any  ship  would  venture 
against  'them  so  near  Boston,  and  could  not  believe 
the  Maid  of  Provence  an  enemy.  He  thought  her  an 
English  ship  eager  to  welcome  them,  but  presently  he 
saw  the  white  ensign  of  France  at  the  mizzen,  and  a 
round  shot  rattled  through  the  rigging  of  the  Bridg- 
water Merchant. 

But  he  was  two  to  one  and  the  game  seemed  with 
him.  No  time  was  wasted.  Phips'  ships  came  to 
and  stood  alongside,  and  the  gunners  got  to  work. 
The  Bridgwater  Merchant  was  high  in  the  water, 
and  her  shot  at  first  did  little  damage  to  the  Maid  of 
Provence^  which,  having  the  advantage  of  the  wind, 
came  nearer  and  nearer.  The  Swalloiv^  with  her 
twenty  odd  guns,  did  better  work,  and  carried  away 
the  foremast  of  the  enemy,  killing  several  men.  But 
Iberville  came  on  slowly,  and,  anxious  to  dispose  of 
the  Swallow  first,  gave  her  broadsides  between  wind 
and  water,  so  that  soon  her  decks  were  spotted  with 
dying  men,  her  bulwarks  broken  in,  and  her  main- 
mast gone.  The  cannonade  was  heard  in  Boston," 
from  which,  a  few  hours  later,  two  merchantmea 


IN  THE  TREASURE  HOUSE. 


197 


set  out  for  the  scene  of  action,  each  carrying  good 
guns. 

But  the  wind  suddenly  sank,  and  as  the  Maid  of 
Provence^  eager  to  close  with  the  Bridgwater  Mer- 
chant^ edged  slowly  down,  a  fog  came  between,  and 
the  firing  ceased  on  both  sides.  Iberville  let  his  ship 
drift  on  her  path,  intent  on  a  hand-to-hand  fight 
aboard  the  Bridgwater  Merchant ;  the  grappling 
irons  were  ready,  and  as  they  drifted  there  was 
silence. 

Every  eye  was  strained.  Suddenly  a  shape  sprang 
out  of  the  grey  mist,  and  the  Maid  of  Provence 
struck.  There  was  a  crash  of  timbers  as  the  bows  of 
the  Swalloiu — it  was  she — were  stove  in,  and  then  a 
wild  cry.  Instantly  she  began  to  sink.  The  grap- 
pling-irons remained  motionless  on  the  Maid  of 
Provence.  Iborville  heard  a  commanding  voice,  a 
cheer,  and  saw  a  dozen  figures  jump  from  the  shat- 
tered bow  towards  the  bow  of  his  own  ship  intent  on 
fighting,  but  all  fell  short  save  one.  It  was  a  great 
leap,  but  the  Englishman  made  it,  catching  the 
chains,  and  scrambing  on  deck.  A  cheer  greeted  him 
— the  Frenchmen  could  not  but  admire  so  brave  a 
feat.    The  Englishman  took  no  notice,  but  instantly 


198 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


i  I; 


turned  to  see  his  own  ship  lurch  forward  and,  without 
a  sound  from  her  decks,  sink  gently  down  to  her 
grave.  He  stood  looking  at  the  place  where  she  had 
been,  but  there  was  only  mist.  He  shook  his  head 
and  a  sob  rattled  in  his  throat ;  his  brave,  taciturn 
crew  had  gone  down  without  a  cry.  He  turned  and 
faced  his  enemies.  They  had  crowded  forward — Iber- 
ville, Sainte-Helene,  Perrot,  Maurice  Joval,  and  the 
staring  sailors.  He  choked  down  his  emotion  and 
faced  them  all  like  an  animal  at  bay  as  Iberville 
stepped  forward.  Without  a  word  Gering  pointed  to 
the  empty  scabbard  at  his  sid3. 

"  No,  pardon  me,"  said  Iberville  drily,  "  not  as  our 
prisoner,  monsieur.  You  have  us  at  advantage ;  you 
will  remain  our  guest." 

"  I  want  no  quarter,"  said  Gering  proudly  and  a 
little  sullenly. 

"  There  can  be  no  question  of  quarter,  monsieur. 
You  are  only  one  against  us  all.  You  cannot  fight ; 
you  saved  your  life  by  boarding  us.  Hospitality  is 
sacred  ;  you  may  not  be  a  prisoner  of  war,  for  there  is 
no  war  between  our  countries." 

"  You  came  upon  a  private  quarrel  ? "  asked 
Gering. 


IN  THE  TREASURE  HOUSE. 


199 


"  Truly ;  and  for  the  treasure — fair  bone  of  figlit 
between  us." 

There  was  a  pause,  in  which  Gering  stood  half 
turned  from  them,  listening.  But  the  Bridgwater 
Mercha7it  had  drifted  away  in  the  mist!  Presently 
he  turned  again  to  Iberville  with  a  smile  defiant  and 
triumphant.  Iberville  understood,  but  showed  noth- 
ing of  what  he  felt,  and  he  asked  Sainte-Helene  to 
show  Gering  to  the  cabin. 

When  the  fog  cleared  away  there  was  no  sign  of 
the  Bridgwater  Merchant^  and  Iberville,  sure  that  she 
had  made  the  port  of  Boston,  and  knowing  that  there 
must  be  English  vessels  searching  for  him,  bore  away 
to  Quebec  with  Gering  on  board. 

He  parted  from  his  rival  the  day  they  arrived — 
Perrot  was  to  escort  him  a  distance  on  his  way  to 
Boston. 

Gering  thanked  him  for  his  courtesy. 

"  Indeed,  then,"  said  Iberville,  "  this  is  a  debt — if 
you  choose  to  call  it  so — for  which  I  would  have  no 
thanks — no.  For  it  would  please  me  better  to  render 
accounts  all  at  once  some  day,  and  get  return  in  differ- 
ent form.  Monsieur." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Gering,  a  little  grandly,  "  you 
14 


I  ! 


200 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


have  come  to  me  three  times ;  next  time  I  will  come 
to  you  " 

A  i-rust  that  you  will  keep  your  word,"  answered 
Iberville,  smiling. 

That  day  Iberville,  protesting  helplessly,  was 
ordered  away  to  France  on  a  man-of-war,  which  had 
rocked  in  the  harbour  of  Quebec  for  a  month  await- 
ing his  return.  Even  Frontenac  himself  could  not 
help  him,  for  the  order  had  come  from  the  French 
minister. 


1  come 


isvvered 


was 

cli  had 

await- 

ild  not 

French 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


THE   GIFT   OF   A    CAPTIVE. 


Fortune  had  not  been  kind  to  Iberville,  but  still 
he  kept  a  stoical  cheerfulness.  With  the  pride  of  a 
man  who  feels  that  he  has  impressed  a  woman,  and 
knowing  the  strength  of  his  purpose,  he  believed  that 
Jessica  would  yet  be  his.  Meanwhile  matters  should 
not  lie  still.  In  those  days  men  made  love  by  proxy, 
and  Iberville  turned  to  De  Casson  and  Perrot. 

The  night  b  'ore  he  started  for  France  they  sat 
together  in  a  littie  house  flanking  the  Chdteau  St. 
Louis.     Iberville  had  been  speaking. 

"  I  know  the  strength  of  your  feelings,  Iberville," 
said  De  Casson,  "  but  is  it  wise,  and  is  it  right  ?  " 

Iberville  made  an  airy  motion  with  his  hand. 
"  My  dear  abbe,  there  is  but  one  thing  worth  living 
for,  and  that  is  to  follow  your  convictions.  See:  I 
have  known  you  since  you  took  me  from  my  mother's 
last  farewell.     I  have  believed  in  you,  cared  for  you, 

(201) 


202 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


trusted  you ;  we  have  been  good  comrades.  Come, 
now,  tell  me:  what  would  you  think  if  my  mind 
drifted !  No,  no,  no !  to  stand  by  one's  own  heart  is 
the  gift  of  an  honest  man.  I  am  a  sad  rogue,  abb6, 
as  you  know,  but  1  swear  I  would  sooner  let  slip  the 
friendship  of  King  Louis  himself  than  the  hand  of  a 
good  comrade.  Well,  my  sword  is  for  my  king.  I 
must  obey  him,  I  must  leave  my  comrades  behind, 
but  I  shall  not  forget,  and  they  must  not  forget."  At 
this  he  got  to  his  feet,  came  over,  laid  a  hand  on  the 
abbe's  shoulder,  and  his  voice  softened,  "Abbe,  the 
woman  shall  be  mine." 

"  If  God  wills  so,  Iberville." 

«  He  will.  He  will ! " 

"  Well,"  said  Perrot,  with  a  little  laugh  ;  "  I  think 
God  will  be  good  to  a  Frenchman  when  an  English- 
man is  his  foe." 

"  But  the  girl  is  English— and  a  heretic,"  urged 
the  abbe  helplessly. 

Perrot  laughed  again.  "That  will  make  Him 
sorry  for  her." 

Meanwhile  Iberville  had  turned  to  the  table,  and 
was  now  reading  a  letter.  A  pleased  look  came  on 
his  face,  and  he  nodded  in  satisfaction.     At  last  he 


,. 


THE  OIPT  OP  A  CAPTIVE. 


203 


Como, 
r  mind 
icurt  is 
),  abb6, 
dip  the 
nd  of  a 
ng.  I 
jeliind, 

"  At 
on  the 
3e,  the 


[  think 
nglish- 

urged 

Him 

ie,  and 
me  on 
ast  he 


folded  it  up  with  a  smile  and  sealed  it.  "  Well,"  ho 
said,  "  the  English  is  not  good,  for  I  have  seen  my 
Shakespeare  little  this  time  back,  but  it  will  do — it 
must  do.  In  such  things  rhetoric  is  toothing.  You 
will  take  it,  Perrot  ?  "  he  said,  holding  up  the  letter. 

Perrot  reached  out  for  it. 

"And  there  is  something  more."  Iberville  drew 
from  his  finger  a  costly  ring.  It  had  come  from  the 
hand  of  a  Spanish  noble,  whose  place  ho  had  taken 
in  Spain  years  before.  He  had  prevented  his  men 
from  despoiling  the  castle,  had  been  bidden  to  take 
what  he  would,  and  had  chosen  only  this. 

"Tell  her,"  he  said,  "that  it  was  the  gift  of  a 
captive  to  me,  and  that  it  is  the  gift  of  a  captive  to 
her.  For,  upon  my  soul,  I  am  prisoner  to  none  other 
in  God's  world." 

Perrot  weighed  the  ring  up  and  down  in  his  hand. 
".i5tew,"  he  said,  "  monsieur,  it  is  a  fine  speech,  but  I 
do  not  understand.  A  prisoner,  eh?  I  remember 
when  you  were  a  prisoner  with  me  upon  the  Ottawa. 
Only  a  boy — only  a  boy,  but,  holy  Mother,  that  was 
different!  I  will  tell  her  how  you  never  gave  up; 
how  you  went  on  the  hunt  after  Grey  Diver,  the 
Iroquois.    Through  the  woods,  silent — silent  for  days 


204 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


and  days,  Indians  all  round  us.  Death  in  the  brush, 
death  in  the  tree- top,  d'eath  from  the  river-bank.  I 
said  to  you,  Give  up ;  but  you  kept  on.  Then  there 
were  days  when  there  was  no  sleep — no  rest — we  were 
like  ghosts.  Sometimes  we  come  to  a  settler's  cabin 
and  see  it  ail  smoking ;  sometimes  to  a  fort  and  find 
only  a  heap  of  bones — and  other  things!  But  you 
would  not  give  up  ;  you  kept  on.  What  for  ?  That 
Indian  chief  killed  your  best  friend.    AVell,  that  was 

» 

for  hate ;  you  keep  on  and  on  and  on  for  hate — and 
you  had  your  way  with  Grey  Diver;  I  heard  your  axe 
crash  in  his  skull.  All  for  hate !  And  what  will  you 
do  for  love? — I  will  ask  her  what  will  you  do  for 
love.  Ah,  you  are  a  great  man — 7nais  oiii!  I  will 
tell  her  so." 

"  Tell  her  what  you  please,  Perrot." 

Iberville  hummed  an  air  as  at  some  goodly  pros- 
pect. Yet  when  he  turned  to  the  others  again  there 
grew  a  quick  mist  in  his  eyes.  It  was  not  so  much 
the  thought  of  the  woman  as  of  the  men.  There 
came  to  him  with  sudden  force  how  these  two  com- 
rades had  been  ever  ready  to  sacrifice  themselves  for 
him  and  he  ready  to  accept  the  sacrifice.  He  was  not 
ashamed  of  the  mist,  but  he  wondered  that  the  thing 


THE  GIFT  OF  A  CAPTIVE. 


205 


had  come  to  him  all  at  once.  He  grasped  the  hands 
of  both,  shook  them  heartily,  then  dashed  his  fingers 
across  his  eyes,  and  with  the  instinct  of  every  im- 
perfect man, — that  touch  of  the  aboriginal  in  all  of 
us,  who  must  have  a  sign  for  an  emotion, — he  went  to 
a  cabinet  and  out  came  a  bottle  of  wine. 

An  hour  after,  Perrot  left  him  at  the  ship's  side. 
They  were  both  cheerful.  "  Two  years,  Perrot ;  two 
years ! "  he  said. 

"^7i,  7no7i  grand  capitaine!  " 

Iberville  turned  away,  then  came  back  again. 
"  You  will  start  at  once  ?  " 

"  At  once ;  and  the  abbe  shall  write." 

Upon  the  lofty  bank  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  at  the 
Sault  au  Matelot,  a  tall  figure  clad  in  a  cassock  stood 
and  watched  the  river  below.  On  the  high  cliff  of 
Point  Levis  lights  were  showing,  and  fires  burning  as 
far  off  as  the  island  of  Orleans.  And  in  that  sweet 
curve  of  shore,  from  the  St.  Charles  to  Beauport, 
thousands  of  stars  seemed  shining.  Nearer  still,  from 
the  heights,  there  was  the  same  strange  scintillation  ; 
the  great  promontory  had  a  coronet  of  stars.  In  the 
lower  town  there  was  like  illumination,  and  out  upon 
the  river  trailed  long  processions  of  light.     It  was  the 


£06 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


feast  of  good  Saint  Anne  de  Beanpr6.  All  day  long 
had  there  been  masses  and  processions  on  land.  Hun- 
dreds of  Jesuits,  with  thousands  of  the  populace,  had 
filed  behind  the  cross  and  the  host.  And  now  there 
was  a  candle  in  every  window.  Indians,  half-breeds, 
coureurs  du  hois,  native  Canadians,  coigneurs,  and 
noblesse,  were  joining  in  the  function.  But  De  Cas- 
son's  eyes  were  not  for  these.  He  was  watching  the 
lights  of  a  ship  that  slowly  made  its  way  down  the 
river  among  the  canoes,  and  his  eyes  never  left  it  till 
it  had  passed  beyond  the  island  of  Orleans  and  was 
lost  in  the  night. 

"  Dear  lad !  "  he  said,  "  dear  lad !  She  is  not  for 
him ;  she  should  not  be.  As  a  priest  it  were  my  duty 
to  see  that  he  should  not  marry  her.  As  a  man,"  he 
sighed — "  as  a  man  I  would  give  my  life  for  him." 

He  lifted  his  hand  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross 
towards  that  spot  on  the  horizon  whither  Iberville 
had  gone. 

"  He  will  be  a  great  man  some  day,"  he  added  to 
himself, — "  a  great  man.  There  will  be  empires  here, 
and  when  histories  are  written  Pierre's  shall  be  a 
name  beside  Frontenac's  and  La  Salle's." 

All  the  human  affection  of  the  good  abb6's  life 


THE  GIFT  OP  A  CAPTIVE. 


207 


i 


centered  upon  Iberville.  Giant  in  stature,  so  ascetic 
and  refined  was  his  mind,  his  life,  that  he  had  the  in- 
tuition of  a  woman  and,  what  was  more,  little  of  the 
bigotry  of  his  brethren.  As  he  turned  from  the 
heights,  made  his  way  along  the  cliff  and  down  Moun- 
tain Street,  his  thoughts  were  still  upon  the  same  sub- 
ject.    He  suddenly  pau!:,  d. 

"  He  will  marry  the  sword,"  he  said,  "  and  not  the 
woman." 

How  far  he  was  right  we  may  judge  if  we  enter 
the  house  of  Governor  Nicholls  at  New  York  one 
month  later. 


i  m 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


MAIDEN    NO    MORE. 


It  was  late  midsummer,  and  just  such  an  evening 
as  had  seen  the  attempted  capture  of  Jessica  Leveret 
years  before.  She  sat  at  a  window,  looking  out  upon 
the  garden  and  the  river.  The  room  was  at  the  top 
of  the  house.  It  had  been  to  her  a  kind  of  playroom 
when  she  had  visited  Governor  Nicholls  years  before. 
To  every  woman  memory  is  a  kind  of  religion ;  and 
to  Jessica  as  much  as  to  any,  perhaps  more  than  to 
most,  for  she  had  imagination.  She  half  sat,  half 
knelt,  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  her  soft  cheek  resting 
upon  her  firm,  delicate  hand.  Har  beauty  was  as  fresh 
and  sweet  as  on  the  day  we  first  saw  her.  More, 
something  deep  and  rich  had  entered  into  it.  Her 
eyes  had  got  that  fine  steadfastness  which  only  deep 
tenderness  and  pride  can  give  a  woman:  she  had 
lived.  She  was  smiling  now,  yet  she  was  not  merry ; 
her  brightness  was  the  sunshine  of  a  nature  touched 

(208) 


MAIDEN  NO  MORE. 


J09 


with  an  Arcadian  simplicity.     Such  an  one  could  not 
be  wholly  unhappy.     Being  made   for  others  more  ^ 
than  for  herself,  she  had  something  of  the  divine  gift 
of  self-forgetf ulness. 

As  she  sat  there,  her  eyes  ever  watching  the  river 
as  though  for  someone  she  expected,  there  came  from 
the  garden  beneath  the  sound  of  singing.  It  was  not 
loud,  but  deep  and  strong — 

As  the  wave  to  the  shore,  as  the  dew  to  the  leaf, 
As  the  breeze  to  the  flower, 
As  the  scent  of  a  rose  to  the  heart  of  a  child, 
As  the  rain  to  the  dusty  land — 
My  heart  goeth  out  unto  Thee— unto  Thee  I 
The  night  is  far  spent  and  the  day  is  at  hand. 

As  the  song  of  a  bird  to  the  call  of  a  star, 

As  the  sun  to  the  eye, 

As  the  anvil  of  man  to  the  hammers  of  God, 

As  the  snow  to  the  north — 

Is  my  word  unto  Thy  word — Thy  word ! 

The  night  is  far  speiit  and  the  day  is  at  hand. 


It  was  Morris  who  was  singing.  "With  growth  of 
years  had  come  increase  of  piety,  and  it  was  his  cus- 
tom once  a  week  to  gather  about  him  such  of  the 
servants  as  would  for  the  reading  of  Scripture. 

To  Jessica  the  song  had  no  religious  significance. 


210 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


m  I 


By  the  time  it  had  passed  through  the  atmosphere  of 
memory  and  meditation,  it  carried  a  different  mean- 
ing. Her  forehead  dropped  forward  in  her  fingers, 
and  remained  so  until  the  song  ended.  Then  she 
sighed,  smiled  wistfully  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Poor  fellow !  poor  Iberville  I "  she  said,  almost 
beneath  her  breath. 

The  next  morning  she  was  to  be  jnarried.  George 
Gering  had  returned  to  her,  for  the  second  time  de- 
feated by  Iberville.  He  had  proved  himself  a  brave 
man,  and,  what  was  much  in  her  father's  sight,  he 
was  to  have  his  share  of  Phips'  booty.  And  what  was 
still  more,  Gering  had  prevailed  upon  Phips  to  allow 
Mr.  Leveret's  investment  in  the  first  expedition  to  re- 
ceive a  dividend  from  the  second.  Therefore  she  was 
ready  to  fulfil  her  promise.  Yet  had  she  misgivings? 
For,  only  a  few  days  before,  she  had  sent  for  the  old 
pastor  at  Boston,  who  had  known  her  since  she  was  a 
child.  She  wished,  she  said,  to  be  married  by  him 
and  no  other  at  Governor  Nicholls'  house,  rather  than 
at  her  own  home  at  Boston,  where  there  was  none 
other  of  her  name. 

The  old  pastor  had  come  that  afternoon,  and  she 
had  asked  him  to  see  her  that  evening.     Not  long 


)here  of 
t  mean- 
fingers, 
en  she 

almost 

George 
me  de- 
.  brave 
fht,  he 
at  was 
>  allow 
I  to  re- 
he  was 
vings  ? 
he  old 
was  a 
y  him 
'  than 
none 

C  she 
long 


MAIDEN  NO  MORE. 


211 


after  Morris  had  done  with  singing  there  came  a  tap- 
ping at  her  .loor.  She  answered  and  old  Pastor  Mack- 
lin  entered — a  white-haired  man  of  kindly  yet  btern 
countenance — by  nature  a  gentleman,  by  practice  a 
bigot.  He  came  forward  and  took  both  her  hands  as 
she  rose.  "  My  dear  young  lady ! "  he  said,  and 
smiled  kindly  at  her.  After  a  word  of  greeting  she 
offered  him  a  chair,  and  came  again  to  the  window. 

Presently  she  looked  up  and  said  very  simply,  "  I 
am  going  to  be  married.  You  have  known  me  ever 
since  I  was  born :  do  you  think  I  will  make  a  good 
wife  ?  " 

"  With  prayer  and  chastening  of  the  spirit,  my 
daughter,"  he  said. 

"  But  suppose  that  at  the  altar  I  remembered  an- 
other man  ?  " 

"  A  sin,  my  child,  for  which  should  be  due  sor- 


row.' 

The  girl  smiled  sadly.  She  felt  poignantly  how 
little  he  could  help  her. 

"  And  if  the  man  were  a  Catholic  and  a  French- 
man ?  "  she  said. 

"  A  papist  and  a  Frenchman ! "  he  cried,  lifting  up 
his  hands.    "  My  daughter,  you  ever  were  too  play- 


212 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


ful.  You  speak  of  things  impossible.  I  pray  you  lis- 
ten." 

Jessica  raised  her  hand  as  if  to  stop  him  and  to 
speak  herself,  but  she  let  him  go  on.  With  the  least 
encouragement  she  might  have  told  him  all.  She  had 
had  her  moment  of  weakness,  but  now  it  was  past. 
There  are  times  when  every  woman  feels  she  must 
have  a  confidant  or  her  heart  will  burst — have  counsel 
or  she  will  die.  Such  a  time  had  come  to  Jessica. 
But  she  now  learned,  as  we  all  must  learn,  that  we 
live  our  dark  hour  alone. 

She  listened  as  in  a  dream  to  the  kindly  bigot. 
When  he  had  finished,  she  knelt  and  received  his 
blessing.  All  the  time  she  wore  that  strange,  quiet 
smile.    Soon  afterwards  he  left  her. 

She  went  again  to  the  window.  "  A  papist  and  a 
Frenchman — an  unpardonable  sin ! "  she  said  into  the 
distance.     "  Jessica,  what  a  sinner  art  thou  I" 

Presently  there  was  a  tap,  the  door  opened,  and 
George  Gering  entered.  She  turned  to  receive  him, 
but  there  was  no  great  lighting  of  the  face.  He 
came  quickly  to  her,  and  ran  his  arm  round  her  waist. 
A  great  kindness  looked  out  of  her  eyes.  Somehow 
she  felt  herself  superior  to  him — her  love  was  less  and 


MAIDEN  NO  MORE. 


213 


her  nature  deeper.  He  pressed  her  fingers  to  his  lips. 
" Of  what  were  you  thinking,  Jessica?"  he  asked. 

"  Of  what  a  sinner  I  am,"  she  answered,  with  a  sad 
kind  of  humour. 

"  What  a  villain  must  I  be,  then !  "  he  responded. 

"  Well,  yes,"  she  said  musingly ;  "  I  think  you  are 
something  of  a  villain,  George." 

"  Well,  well,  you  shall  cure  me  of  all  mine  iniqui- 
ties," he  said.  *'  There  will  be  a  lifetime  for  it. 
Come,  let  us  to  the  garden." 

"  Wait,"  she  said.  "  I  told  you  that  I  was  a  sinner, 
George ;  I  want  to  tell  you  how.'' 

"  Tell  me  nothing ;  let  us  both  go  and  repent,"  he 
rejoined,  laughing,  and  he  hurried  her  away.  She 
had  lost  her  opportunity. 

Next  morning  she  was  married.  The  day  was 
glorious.  The  town  was  garlanded,  and  there  was 
not  an  English  merchant  or  a  Dutch  burgher  but 
wore  his  holiday  dress.  The  ceremony  ended,  a  trav- 
ellfci  ame  among  the  crowd.  He  asked  a  hurried 
question  or  two  and  then  edged  away.  Soon  he  made 
a  stand  under  the  trees,  and,  viewing  the  scene,  nod- 
ded his  head  and  said,  "  The  abbe  was  right !  " 

It  was  Perrot.     A  few  hours  afterwards  the  crowd 


iimt 


1     I 


f      I 


214 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


had  goue  and  the  governor's  garden  was  empty.  Per- 
rot  still  kept  his  watch  under  the  tree,  though  why  he 
could  hardly  say — his  errand  was  useless  now.  But 
he  had  the  gift  of  waiting.  At  last  he  saw  a  figure 
issue  from  a  door  and  go  down  into  the  garden.  Per- 
rot  remembered  the  secret  gate,  lie  made  a  detour, 
reached  it,  and  entered.  She  was  walking  up  and 
down  in  the  pines.  In  an  hour  or  so  she  was  to  leave 
for  England.  Her  husband  had  gone  to  the  ship  to 
do  some  needful  things,  and  she  had  stolen  out  for  a 
moment's  quiet.  When  Pv'^rrot  faced  her,  she  gave  a 
little  cry  and  started  back.  But  presently  she  recov- 
ered, smiled  at  him,  and  said  kindly,  "  You  come  sud- 
denly, monsieur." 

"  Yet  have  I  travelled  hard  and  long,"  he  answered. 

"Yes?" 

"  And  I  have  a  message  for  you." 

"  A  message  ?  "  she  said  abstractedly,  and  turned  a 
little  pale. 

"  A  message  and  a  gift  from  Monsieur  Iberville." 

He  drew  the  letter  and  the  ring  from  his  pocket 
and  held  them  out,  repeating  Iberville's  message. 
There  was  a  troubled  look  in  her  eyes,  and  she  was 
trembling  a  little  now,  but  she  spoke  clearly. 


MAIDEN  NO  MORE. 


215 


"Monsieur,"  she  said,  "you  will  tell  Monsieur 
Iberville  that  I  may  not ;  I  am  married." 

"  So,  madame,"  he  said.  "  But  I  still  must  give 
my  message."  When  he  had  done  so  he  said,  "  Will 
you  take  the  letter?"     He  held  it  out. 

There  was  a  moment's  doubt  and  then  she  took  it, 
but  she  did  not  speak. 

"  Shall  I  carry  no  message,  madame  ?  " 

She  hesitated.  Then,  at  last,  "  Say  that  I  wish 
him  good  fortune  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Good  fortune — Ah,  madame ! "  ho  answered,  in  a 
meaning  tone. 

"  Say  that  I  pray  God  may  bless  him,  and  make 
him  a  friend  of  my  country,"  she  added  in  a  low, 
almost  broken  voice,  and  she  held  out  her  hand  to 
him. 

The  gallant  woodsman  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  "  I 
am  sorry,  madame,"  he  replied,  with  an  admiring 
look. 

She  shook  her  head  sadly.  "  Adieu,  mon3ieur ! " 
she  said  steadily  and  very  kindly. 

A  moment  after  he  was  gone.     She  looked  at  the 

missive  steadfastly  for  a  moment,  then  thrust  it  into 

the  folds  of  her  dress  and,  very  pale,  walked  quietly 
15 


M^ 


4j 


216 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


to  the  liouse,  where,  inside  her  own  room,  she  lighted 
a  candle.  She  turned  the  letter  over  in  her  hand 
once  or  twice,  and  her  fingers  liung  at  the  seal.  But 
all  at  once  she  raised  it  to  her  lips,  and  then  with  a 
grave,  firm  look,  held  it  in  the  flame  and  saw  it  pass 
in  smoke.     It  was  the  last  effort  for  victory. 


lighted 
cr  liand 
al.  But 
n  witli  a 
V  it  pass 


(Opocl)  tl)e  iTonrtl). 
CIIAPTEIl  XIX. 

WHICH    TELLS    OF   A    IJUOTIIKU's    BLOOD    CRYING 
FROM   THE   GROUND. 


Two  men  stood  leaning  against  a  great  gun  aloft 
on  t^e  heiglits  of  Quebec.  The  air  of  an  October 
morning  fluttered  the  lace  at  their  breasts  and  lifted 
the  long  brown  hair  of  the  younger  man  from  his 
shoulders.  His  companion  was  tall,  alert,  bronzed, 
grey-headed,  with  an  eagle  eye  and  a  glance  of  au- 
thority. He  laid  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
younger  man  and  said,  "  I  am  glad  you  have  come, 
Iberville,  for  I  need  you,  as  I  need  all  your  brave 
family — I  could  spare  not  one." 

"  You  honour  me,  sir,'*  was  the  reply ;  "  and,  be- 
lieve me,  there  is  none  in  Quebec  but  thanks  God 
that  their  governor  is  here  before  Phips  rounds  Isle 
Orleans  yonder." 

(217) 


218 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


"  You  did  nobly  while  I  was  away  there  in  Montreal, 
waiting  for  the  New  Yorkers  to  take  it — if  they  could. 
They  were  a  sorry  rabble,  for  they  rushed  on  La  Prai- 
rie,— that  meagre  place — massacred  and  turned  tail." 

"  That's  strange,  sir,  for  they  are  brave  men, 
stupid  though  they  be.     I  have  fought  them." 

"  Well,  well,  as  that  may  be !  We  will  give  them 
chance  for  bravery.  Our  forts  are  strong  from  the 
Sault  au  Matelot  round  to  Champigny's  palace,  the 
trenches  and  embankments  are  well  ended,  and  if 
they  give  me  but  two  days  more  I  will  hold  the  place 
against  twice  their  thirty-four  sail  and  twenty-five 
hundred  men." 

"  For  how  long,  your  Excellency  ?  " 

Count  Frontenac  nodded.  "  Spoken  like  a  soldier. 
There's  the  vital  point.  By  the  mass,  just  so  long  as 
food  lasts !  But  here  we  are  with  near  two  thousand 
men,  and  all  the  people  from  the  villages,  besides  Cal- 
li^res'  seven  or  eight  hundred,  should  they  arrive  in 
time — and,  pray  God  they  may,  for  there  will  be  work 
to  do.  If  they  come  at  us  in  front  here  and  behind 
from  the  Saint  Charles,  shielding  their  men  as  they 
cross  the  river,  we  shall  have  none  too  many ;  but  we 
must  hold  it." 


A  BROTHER'S  BLOOD  CRYING. 


219 


Montreal, 
ly  could. 
La  Prai- 
l  tail." 
e    men, 

^e  them 
rom  the 
ace,  the 
and  if 
he  place 
3nty-five 


soldier. 

long  as 

lousand 

des  Cal- 

rrive  in 

be  work 

behind 

as  they 

but  we 


The  governor  drew  himself  up  proudly.  He  had 
sniffed  the  air  of  battle  for  over  fifty  years  with  all 
manner  of  enemies,  and  his  heart  was  in  the  thing. 
Xever  had  there  been  in  Quebec  a  more  moving  sight 
than  when  he  arrived  from  Montreal  the  evening  be- 
fore, and  climbed  Mountain  Street  on  his  way  to  the 
chateau.  Women  and  children  pressed  round  him, 
blessing  him ;  priests,  as  he  passed,  lifted  hands  in 
benediction ;  men  cheered  and  cried  for  joy ;  in  every 
house  there  was  thanksgiving  that  the  imperious  old 
veteran  had  come  in  time. 

Prevost  the  town  mayor,  Champigny  the  Intend- 
ant,  Sainte-Helene,  Maricourt,  and  Longueil,  had 
worked  with  the  skill  of  soldiers  who  knew  their  duty, 
and  it  was  incredible  what  had  been  done  since  the 
alarm  had  come  to  Prevost  that  Phips  had  entered 
the  St.  Lawrence  and  was  anchored  at  Tadousac. 

"And  how  came  you  to  be  here,  Iberville?"  queried 
the  governor  pleasantly.     "  We  scarce  expected  you." 

"The  promptings  of  the  saints  and  the  happy 
kindness  of  King  Louis,  who  will  send  my  ship  here 
after  me.  I  boarded  the  first  merchantman  with  its 
nose  to  the  sea,  and  landed  here  soon  after  you  left 
for  Montreal." 


n 


i! 


IflrT 


220 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


"  So  ?  Good !  See  you,  see  you,  Iberville :  what 
of  the  lady  Puritan's  marriage  with  the  fire-eating 
Englishman  ?  " 

The  governor  smiled  as  he  spoke,  not  looking  at 
Iberville.  His  glance  was  upon  the  batteries  in  lower 
town.  He  had  inquired  carelessly,  for  he  did  not 
think  the  question  serious  at  this  distance  of  time. 
Getting  no  answer,  he  turned  smartly  upon  Iberville, 
surprised,  and  he  was  struck  by  the  sudden  hardness 
in  the  sun-browned  face  and  the  flashing  eyes.  Years 
had  deepened  the  power  of  face  and  form. 

"  Your  excellency  will  remember,"  he  answered, 
in  a  low  cold  tone,  "  that  I  once  was  counselled  to 
marry  the  sword." 

The  governor  laid  his  hand  upon  Iberville's 
shoulder.  "  Pardon  me,"  he  said.  "  I  was  not  wise 
or  kind.  But  I  warrant  the  sword  will  be  your  best 
wife  in  the  end." 

"  I  have  a  favour  to  ask,  your  excellency." 

"  You  might  ask  many,  my  Iberville.  If  all  gen- 
tlemen here,  clerics  and  laymen,  asked  as  few  as  you, 
my  life  would  be  peaceful.  Your  services  have  been 
great,  one  way  and  another.    Ask,  and  I  almost  prom- 


ise now. 


?» 


A  BROTHER'S  BLOOD  CRYING. 


221 


"  'Tis  this.  Six  months  ago  you  had  a  prisoner 
here,  captured  on  the  New  England  border.  After 
he  was  exchanged  you  found  that  he  had  sent  a  phm 
of  the  fortifications  to  the  Government  of  Massachu- 
setts. He  passed  in  the  nf  me  of  George  Escott.  Do 
you  remember?" 

"  Very  well  indeed." 

"  Suppose  he  were  taken  prisoner  again  ?  " 

"  I  should  try  him." 

"  And  shoot  him,  if  guilty  ?  " 

"  Or  hang  him." 

"  His  name  was  not  Escott.  It  was  Gering — Cap- 
tain George  Gering." 

The  governor  looked  hard  at  Iberville  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  a  grim  smile  played  upon  his  lips.  "  H'm ! 
How  do  you  guess  that  ?  " 

"From  Perrot,  who  knows  him  well." 

"Why  did  Perrot  not  tell  me?" 

"  Perrot  and  Sainte-Helene  had  been  up  at  Sault 
Sainte  Marie.  They  did  not  arrive  until  the  day  he 
was  exchanged,  nor  did  not  know  till  then.  There 
was  no  grave  reason  for  speaking,  and  they  said  noth- 


ing 


19 


"  And  what  imports  this?" 


II 


II 


«i 


« 


A 


a 


fi 


■  f. 


222 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


"  I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Gering  is  with  Sir 
William  Phips  below  at  Tadousac.  If  he  is  taken  let 
him  be  at  my  disposal." 

The  governor  pursed  his  lips,  then  flashed  a  deep, 
inquiring  glance  at  his  companion.  "  The  new  mis- 
tress turned  against  the  old,  Iberville!"  he  said. 
"  Gering  is  her  husband,  eh?  Well,  I  will  trust  you : 
it  shall  be  as  you  wish — a  matter  for  us  two  alone." 

At  that  moment  Sainte-Helene  and  Maricourfc 
appeared,  and  presently,  in  the  waning  light,  they  all 
went  down  towards  the  convent  of  the  Ursulines,  and 
made  their  way  round  the  rock,  past  the  three  gates  to 
the  palace  of  the  Intendant,  and  so  on  to  the  St. 
Charles  River. 

Next  morning  word  was  brought  that  Phips  was 
coming  steadily  up,  and  would  probably  arrive  that 
day.  All  was  bustle  in  the  town,  and  prayers  and 
work  went  on  without  ceasing.  Late  in  the  afternoon 
the  watchers  from  the  rock  of  Quebec  saw  the  ships 
of  the  New  England  fleet  slowly  rounding  the  point 
of  the  Island  of  Orleans. 

To  the  eyes  of  Sir  William  Phips  and  his  men  the 
great  fortress,  crowned  with  walls,  towers,  and  guns, 
rising  three  hundred  feet  above  'the  water,  the  white 


nth  Sir 
iikeii  let 

a  deep, 
lew  mis- 
le  said, 
ist  you : 


5» 


3ne. 
aricourfc 
they  all 
Qes,  and 
gates  to 
the  St. 

lips  was 
ve  that 
3rs  and 
;ernoon 
le  ships 
e  point 

len  the 
I  giius, 
3  white 


A  BROTHER'S  BLOOD  CRYING. 


223 


banner  flaunting  from  the  chdteau  and  the  citadel, 
the  batteries,  the  sentinels  upon  the  walls — were  sug- 
gestive of  stern  work.  Presently  there  drew  away 
from  Phips'  fleet  a  boat  carrying  a  subaltern  with  a 
flag  of  truce,  who  was  taken  blindfold  to  the  Chdteau 
St.  Louis.  Frontenac's  final  words  to  the  youth  were 
these :  "  Bid  your  master  do  his  best,  and  I  will  do 


mine. 


» 


Disguised  as  a  riverman,  Ibsrville  himself,  with 
others,  rowed  the  subaltern  back  almost  to  the  side  of 
the  admiral's  ship,  for  by  the  freak  of  some  peasants 
the  boat  which  had  brought  him  had  been  set  adrift. 
As  they  rowed  from  the  ship  back  towards  the  shore, 
Iberville,  looking  up,  saw,  standing  on  the  deck  Phips 
and  George  Gering.  He  had  come  for  this.  He  stood 
up  in  his  boat  and  took  off  his  cap.  His  long  clustering 
curls  fell  loose  on  his  shoulders,  and  he  waved  a  hand 
with  a  nonchalant  courtesy.  Gering  sprang  forward. 
"  Iberville !  "  he  cried,  and  drew  his  pistol. 

Iberville  saw  the  motion,  but  did  not  stir.  He 
called  up,  however,  in  a  clear,  distinct  voice,  "Breaker 
of  parole,  keep  your  truce ! " 

"  He  is  right,"  said  Gering  quietly ;  "  quite  right." 

Gering  was  now  hot  for  instant  landing  and  at- 


i 


224 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


tack.  Had  Phips  acted  upon  his  advice  the  record 
of  the  next  few  days  might  have  been  reversed.  But 
the  disease  of  counsel,  deliberation  and  prayer  had 
entered  into  the  soul -of  the  sailor  and  treasure-hunter, 
now  Sir  William  Phips,  governor  of  Massachusetts. 
He  delayed  too  long :  the  tide  turned  ;  there  could  be 
no  landing  that  night. 

Just  after  sundown  there  was  a  great  noise,  and 
the  ringing  of  bells  and  sound  of  singing  came  over 
the  water  to  the  idle  fleet. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ? "  asked  Phips  of  a  French 
prisoner  captured  at  Tadousac. 

"  Ma  foi !  That  you  lose  the  £'ame,"  was  the 
reply.  "  Callieres,  the  governor  of  Montreal,  with  his 
Canadians,  and  Nicholas  Perrot  with  his  coureurs  dn 
hois  have  arrived.     You  have  too  much  delay,  mon- 


sieur. 

In  Quebec,  when  this  contingent  arrived,  the  peo- 
ple went  wild.  And  Perrot  vv^as  never  prouder  than 
when,  in  Mountain  Street,  Iberville,  after  three  years' 
absence,  threw  his  arms  round  him  and,  kissed  him  on 
each  cheek. 

It  was  in  the  dark  hour  before  daybreak  that  Iber- 
ville and  Perrot  met  for  their  first  talk  after  the  long 


A  BROTHER'S  BLOOD  CRYING. 


225 


J  record 
d.  But 
yer  had 
-hunter, 
ihu  setts, 
jould  be 

ise,  and 
Qie  over 

French 

ivas  the 
with  his 
mrs  du 
jr,  mon- 

;he  peo- 

er  than 

le  years' 

him  on 

at  Iber- 
he  long 


separation.  What  had  occurred  on  the  day  of  Jessi- 
ca's marriage  Perrot  had,  with  the  Abbe  de  Casson's 
help,  written  to  Iberville.  But  they  had  had  no  words 
together.  Now,  in  a  room  of  the  citadel  which  looked 
out  on  the  darkness  of  the  river  and  the  deeper  gloom 
of  the  Levis  shore,  they  sat  and  talked,  a  single  candle 
burning,  their  weapons  laid  on  the  table  between 
them. 

They  said  little  at  first,  but  sat  in  the  window 
looking  down  on  the  town  and  the  river.  At  last 
Iberville  spoke.  "  Tell  me  it  all  as  you  remember  it, 
Perrot." 

Perrot,  usually  swift  of  speech  when  once  started, 
was  very  slow  now.  He  felt  the  weight  of  every 
word,  and  he  had  rather  have  told  of  the  scalping  of 
a  hundred  men  than  of  his  last  meeting  with  Jessica. 
When  he  had  finished,  Iberville  said,  "  She  kept  the 
letter,  you  say  ?  " 

Perrot  nodded,  and  drew  the  ring  from  a  pouch 
which  he  carried.  "  I  have  kept  it  safe,"  he  said,  and 
held  it  out.  Iberville  took  it  and  turned  it  over  in 
his  hand,  with  an  enigmatical  smile.  "  I  will  hand  it 
to  her  myself,"  he  said,  half  beneath  his  breath. 

"  You  do  not  give  her  up,  monsieur  ?  " 


III 


Hi 


li 

I 


22G 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


Iberville  huiglied.  Then  he  leaned  forward,  and 
found  Perrot's  eyes  in  the  half  darkness.  "  Perrot, 
she  kept  the  letter,  she  would  have  kept  the  ring  if 
she  could.  Listen :  Monsieur  Gering  has  held  to  his 
word ;  he  has  come  to  seek  me  this  time.  He  knows 
that  while  I  live  the  woman  is  nat  his,  though  she 
bears  his  name.  She  married  him — Why?  It  is  no 
matter — he  was  there,  I  was  not.  There  were  her 
father,  her  friends !  I  was  a  Frenchman,  a  Catholic 
— a  thousand  things!  And  a  woman  will  yield  her 
hand  while  her  heart  remains  in  her  own  keeping. 
Well,  he  has  come.  Now,  one  way  or  another  he 
must  be  mine.  We  have  great  accounts  to  settle,  and 
I  want  it  done  between  him  and  me.  If  he  remains 
in  the  ship  we  must  board  it.  With  our  one  little 
craft  there  in  the  St.  Charles  we  will  sail  out,  grapple 
the  admiral's  ship,  and  play  a  great  game  :  one  against 
thirty-four.  It  has  been  done  before.  Capture  the 
admiral's  ship  and  we  can  play  the  devil  with  the 
rest  of  them.  If  not,  we  can  die.  Or,  if  Gering  lands 
and  fights,  he  also  must  be  ours.  Sainte-Hele^ne  and 
Maricourt  know  him,  and  they  with  myself,  Cler- 
mont, and  Saint  Denis,  are  to  lead  and  resist  attacks 
by  land — Frontenac  has  promised  that :  so  he  must 


A  BROTHER'S  BLOOD  CRYING. 


227 


van},  and 

"  Perrot, 

le  ring  if 

3ld  to  his 

le  knows 

)ugh  she 

It  is  no 

were  her 

Catholic 

field  her 

keeping. 

3ther  he 

ttle,  and 

remains 

ne  little 

grapple 

against 

ure  the 

ith   the 

ig  lands 

t^ne  and 

f,  Cler- 

attacks 

le  mnst 


be  ours  one  way  or  another.  lie  must  be  cap- 
tured, tried  as  a  spy,  and  then  he  is  mine — is 
mine  ! " 

"  Tried  as  a  spy — ah,  I  see !  You  would  disgrace  ? 
Well,  but  even  then  he  is  not  yours." 

Iberville  got  to  his  feet.  "Don't  try  to  think  it 
out,  Perrot.  It  will  come  to  you  in  good  time.  I 
can  trust  you — you  are  with  me  in  all?" 

"  Have  I  ever  failed  you  ?  " 

"  Never.  You  will  not  hesitate  to  go  against  the 
admiral's  ship?  Think,  what  an  adventure!  Re- 
member Adam  Dollard  and  the  Long  Sault !  " 

What  man  in  Canada  did  not  remember  that 
handful  of  men,  going  out  with  an  antique  courage 
to  hold  back  the  Iroquois,  and  save  the  colony, 
and  die?  Perrot  grasped  Iberville's  hand,  and  said, 
"Where  you  go,  I  go.  Where  I  go  my  men  will 
follow." 

Their  pact  was  made.  They  sat  there  in  silence 
till  the  grey  light  of  morning  crept  slowly  in.  S'ill 
they  did  not  lie  down  to  rest ;  they  were  waiting  for 
De  Casson.  He  came  before  a  ray  of  sunshine  had 
pierced  the  leaden  light.  Tall,  massive,  proudly  built, 
his  white  hair  a  rim  about  his  forehead,  his  deep  eyes 


n 


228 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


watchful  and  piercing,  he  looked  a  soldier  in  disguise, 
as  indeed  he  was  to-day  as  much  a  soldier  as  when  he 
fought  at  Turenne  forty  years  before. 

The  three  comrades  were  together  again. 

Iberville  told  his  plans.  The  abbe  lifted  his  fin- 
gers in  admonition  once  or  twice,  but  his  eyes  flashed 
as  Iberville  spoke  of  an  attempt  to  capture  the  admi- 
ral on  his  own  ship.  When  Iberville  had  finished,  ho 
said  in  a  low  voice — 

"  Pierre,  must  it  still  be  so — that  the  woman  shall 
prompt  you  to  these  things  ?  " 

"  I  have  spoken  of  no  woman,  abbe." 

"  Yet  you  have  spoken."  He  sighed  and  raised 
[lis  hand.  "  The  man — the  men — down  there  would 
destroy  our  country.  They  are  our  enemies,  and  we 
do  well  to  slay.  But  remember,  Pierre — '  AVhat  God 
hath  joined  let  no  man  put  asunder ! '  To  fight  him 
as  an  enemy  of  your  country — well ;  to  fight  him  that 
you  may  put  asunder  is  not  well." 

A  look,  half-pained,  half-amused,  crossed  Iber- 
ville's face. 

"  And  yet  heretics — heretics,  abbe  !  " 

"  Marriage  is  no  heresy." 

"  H'm — they  say  different  at  Versailles." 


11 


A  BROTHER'S  IJIiOOD  CRYING. 


229 


disguise, 
when  he 


his  fin- 
3  flashed 
e  adrni- 
shed,  he 

an  shall 


1  raised 
e  would 
and  we 
lat  God 
lit  him 
im  that 

I   Iber- 


"  Since  De  Montespan  went,  and  De  Maintenon 
rules?" 

Iberville  laughed.    "  Well,  well,  perhaps  not." 

They  sat  silent  for  a  time,  but  presently  Iberville 
rose,  went  to  a  cupboard,  drew  forth  some  wine  and 
meat,  and  put  some  coffee  on  the  fire.  Then,  with  a 
gesture  as  of  remembrance,  he  went  to  a  box,  drew 
forth  his  own  violin,  and  placed  it  in  the  priest's 
hands.  It  seemed  strange  that,  in  the  midst  of  such 
great  events, — the  loss  or  keeping  of  an  empire, — 
these  men  should  thus  devote  the  few  hours  granted 
them  for  sleep ;  but  they  did  according  to  their  na- 
tures. The  priest  took  the  instrument  and  tuned  it 
softly.  Iberville  blew  out  the  candle.  There  was 
only  the  light  of  the  fire,  with  the  gleam  of  the  slow- 
coming  dawn.  Once  again,  even  as  years  before  in 
the  little  house  at  Montreal,  De  Casson  played — now 
with  a  martial  air.  At  last  he  struck  the  chords  of  a 
song  which  had  been  a  favourite  with  the  Carignan- 
Salidres  regiment. 

Instantly  Iberville  and  Perrot  responded,  and 
there  rang  out  from  three  strong  throats  the 
words — 


.1 


230  TIIK  TRAIL  OF  TUK  SWOKI). 

"  There  wns  n  king  of  Noriimiuly 
And  ho  rodu  forth  to  war, 

Oai  falnron  falurette  ! 
Ho  had  flvo  liundrod  nam — no  more! 

Gai  j'alurun  donde  ! 

"  There  was  a  king  of  Norniandy, 
Came  Imck  from  war  again ; 
He  brought  a  nmid,  0,  fair  was  shef 
And  twice  five  hundred  men — 
Gai  faluron  falurette  ! 
Gai  faluron  donde  !  " 


ill 


They  were  still  singing  when  soldiers  came  by  tlie 
window  in  the  first  warm  light  of  sunrise.  These 
caught  it  up,  singing  it  as  they  marched  on.  It  was 
taken  up  again  by  other  companies,  and  by  tlie  time 
Iberville  presented  himself  to  Count  Frontenac,  not 
long  after,  there  was  hardly  a  citizen,  soldier,  or 
woodsman,  but  was  singing  it. 

The  weather  and  water  were  blustering  all  that 
day,  and  Phips  did  not  move,  save  for  a  small  at- 
tempt— repulsed — by  a  handful  of  men  to  examine 
the  landing.  The  next  morning,  however,  the  attack 
began.  Twelve  hundred  men  were  landed  at  Beau- 
port,  in  the  mud  and  low  water,  under  one  Major 
Walley.      With   him  was  Gering,  keen  for  action — 


A    HltOTIIKU'S   HLOOI)  CRYING. 


231 


D  by  tlie 

These 

It  was 

ic  time 

lae,  not 

ier,   or 

1  that 
lall  at- 
xamine 
attack 
Beau- 
Major 
tion — 


he  had  persuaded  Phips  to  allow  him  to  fight  ou 
hind. 

To  meet  the  English,  Iberville,  Sainte-IIelenc, 
ami  Perrot  issued  forth  with  three  hundred  sharp- 
shooters and  a  band  of  Huron  Indian?.  In  the  skir- 
mish that  followed  Iberville  and  Perrot  pressed  with 
a  handful  of  men  forward  very  close  to  the  ranks  of 
the  English.  In  the  charge  which  the  New  Eng- 
lander  ordered,  Iberville  and  Perrot  saw  Gering,  and 
they  tried  hard  to  reach  him.  But  the  movement  be- 
tween made  it  impossible  without  running  too  great 
risk.  For  hours  the  fierce  skirmishing  went  on,  but 
in  the  evening  the  French  withdrew  and  the  New 
Englanders  made  their  way  towards  the  St.  Charles, 
where  vessels  were  to  meet  them,  and  protect  them  as 
they  crossed  the  river  and  attacked  the  town  in  the 
rear — help  that  never  came.  For  Phips,  impatient, 
snent  his  day  in  a  terrible  cannonading,  which  did  no 
great  damage  to  the  town — or  the  cliff.  It  was  a 
game  of  thunder,  nothing  worse,  and  Walley  and  Ger- 
ing with  their  men  were  neglected. 

The  fight  with  the  ships  began  again  at  daybreak. 

Iberville,  seeing  that  Walley  would  not  attack,  joined 

Sainte-Helene  and  Maricourt  at  the  battery,  and  one 
16 


m 


232 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


iili: 

III; 
ijiiiili 


■  li 


If   ■Hi 


of  Iberville's  shots  brought  down  the  admiral's  flag- 
staff, with  its  cross  of  St.  George.  It  drifted  towards 
the  shore,  and  Maurice  Joval  went  out  in  a  canoe  un- 
der a  galling  fire  and  brought  it  up  to  Frontenac. 

Iberville  and  Sainte-Helene  concentrated  them- 
solves  on  the  Six  Friends — the  admiral's  ship.  In 
vain  Phips'  gunners  tried  to  dislodge  them  and  their 
guns.  They  sent  ball  after  ball  into  her  hull  and 
through  her  rigging ;  they  tore  away  her  mainmast, 
shattered  her  mizzenmast,  and  handled  her  as  vi- 
ciously as  only  expert  gunners  could.  The  New  Eng- 
lander  replied  bravely,  but  Quebec  was  not  destined 
to  be  taken  by  bombardment,  and  Iberville  saw  the 
Six  Friends  drift,  a  shattered  remnant,  out  of  his  line 
of  fire. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.  One  by  one  the 
thirty-four  craft  drew  away,  and  Walley  and  Gering 
were  left  with  their  men,  unaided  in  the  siege.  There 
was  one  moment  when  the  cannonading  was  greatest 
and  the  skirmishers  seemed  withdrawn,  that  Gering, 
furious  with  the  delay,  almost  prevailed  upon  the  cau- 
tious Walley  to  dash  across  the  river  and  make  a  des- 
perate charge  up  the  hill,  and  in  at  the  back  door  of 
the  town.    But  Walley  was,  after  all,  a  merchant  and 


A  BROTHER'S  BLOOD  CRYING. 


233 


il's  flag- 
to  wards 
moe  un- 
aac. 

i  them- 
hip.  In 
md  their 
lull  and 
ainmast, 
ir  as  vi- 
ew Eng- 
destined 
saw  the 
:  his  line 

one  the 

Gering 

.    There 

greatest 

Gering, 

I  the  cau- 

ke  a  des- 

door  of 

lant  and 


not  a  soldier,  and  would  not  do  it.  Gering  fretted 
on  his  chain,  sure  that  Iberville  was  with  the  guns 
against  the  ships,  and  would  return  to  harass  his  New 
Englanders  soon.  That  evening  it  turned  bitter  cold, 
and  without  the  ammunition  promised  by  Phips,  with 
little  or  no  food  and  useless  field-pieces,  their  lot  was 
hard. 

But  Gering  had  his  way  the  next  morning.  Wal- 
ley  set  out  to  the  Six  Friends  to  represent  his  case  to 
the  admiral.  Gering  saw  how  the  men  chafed,  and 
he  sounded  a  few  of  them.  Their  wills  were  with 
him :  they  had  come  to  fight,  and  fight  they  would,  if 
they  could  but  get  the  chance.  With  a  miraculous 
swiftness  the  whispered  word  went  through  the  lines. 
Gering  could  not  command  them  to  it,  but  if  the  men 
went  forward  he  must  go  with  them !  The  ships  in 
front  were  silent.  Quebec  was  now  interested  in  these 
men  near  the  St.  Charles  River. 

As  Iberville  stood  with  Frontenac  near  the  palace 
of  the  Intendant,  watching,  he  saw  the  enemy  sud- 
denly hurry  forward.  In  an  instant  he  was  dashing 
down  to  join  his  brothers,  Sainte-Helene,  Longueil, 
and  Perrot ;  and  at  th,e  head  of  a  body  of  men  they 
pushed  on  to  get  over  the  ford  and  hold  it,  while 


¥ 


234 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SV70RD. 


Frontenac,  leading  three  battalions  of  troops,  got 
away  more  slowly.  There  were  but  a  few  hundred 
men  with  Iberville,  arrayed  against  Gering's  many 
hundreds ;  but  the  French  were  bush  fighters  and  the 
New  Englanders  were  only  stout  sailors  and  plough- 
men. Yet  Gering  had  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of 
his  men  that  day;  they  charged  bravely,  but  their 
enemies  were  hid  to  deadly  advantage  behind  trees 
and  thickets,  the  best  sharpshooters  of  the  province. 

Perrot  had  had  his  orders  from  Iberville:  Iber- 
ville himself  was,  if  possible,  to  engage  Gering  in  a 
hand-to-hand  fight ;  Perrot,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
to  cut  Gering  off  from  his  men  and  bring  him  in  a 
prisoner.  More  than  once  both  had  Gering  within 
range  of  their  muskets,  but  they  held  their  hands,  nor 
indeed  did  Gering  himself,  who  once  also  had  a 
chance  of  bringing  Iberville  down,  act  on  his  oppor- 
tunity. Gering's  men  were  badly  exposed,  and  le 
sent  them  hard  at  the  thickets,  clearing  the  outposts 
at  some  heavy  loss.  His  men  were  now  scattered,  and 
he  shifted  his  position  so  as  to  bring  him  nearer  the 
spot  where  Sainte-Hel^ne  and  Longueil  were  pushing 
forward  fresh  outposts.  He  saw  the  activity  of  the 
two  brothers,  but  did  not  recognise  them,  and  sent 


A  BROTiJER'S   BLOOD  CRYING. 


235 


ps,  got 
iindred 
J  many 
and  the 
plough- 
nied  of 
it  their 
d  trees 
^'iuce. 
:    Iber- 
ng  in  a 
nd,  was 
im  in  a 
within 
ids,  nor 
had   a 
oppor- 
and    le 
(utposts 
ed,  and 
rer  the 
mshing 
of  the 
d  sent 


a  handful  of  men  to  dislodge  them.  Both  Sainte- 
Hel(ine  and  Longueil  exposed  themselves  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  they  made  for  an  advantageous  thicket. 
Gering  saw  his  opportunity,  took  a  musket  from 
a  soldier  and  fired.  Sainte-IIelene  fell  mortally 
wounded.  Longueil  sprang  forward  with  a  cry  of 
rage,  but  a  spent  ball  struck  him. 

Iberville,  at  a  distance,  saw  the  affair.  With  a 
smothered  oath  he  snatched  a  musket  from  Maurice 
Joval,  took  steady  aim  and  fired.  The  distance  was 
too  great,  the  wind  too  strong ;  he  only  carried  away 
an  epaulet.  But  Perrot,  who  was  not  far  from  the 
fallen  brothers,  suddenly  made  a  dash  within  easy 
range  of  the  rifles  of  the  British,  and  cut  Gering  and 
two  of  his  companions  off  from  the  main  body.  It 
was  done  so  suddenly  that  Gering  found  himself 
between  two  fires.  His  companions  drew  close  to 
him,  prepared  to  sell  their  lives  dearly,  but  Perrot 
called  to  them  to  surrender.  Gering  saw  the  fruit- 
lessness  of  resistance  and,  to  save  his  companions' 
lives,  yielded. 

The  siege  of  Quebec  was  over.  The  British  con- 
tented themselves  with  holding  their  position  till 
Walley   returned    bearing    the    admiral's    orders    to 


236 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


i 


W 


;:| 


embark  again  for  the  fleet.  And  so  in  dae  time  they 
did — in  rain,  cold,  and  gloom. 

In  a  few  days  Sir  William  Phips,  having  patched 
up  his  shattered  ships,  sailed  away,  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  the  capture  of  Quebec  was  not  so  easy  as 
finding  lost  treasure.  He  had  tried  in  vain  to  effect 
Geriug's  release. 

When  Gering  surrendered,  Perrot  took  his  sword 
with  a  grim  coolness  and  said,  "  Come,  monsieur,  and 
see  what  you  think  your  stay    ith  us  may  be  like." 

In  a  moment  he  was  stopped  beside  the  dead  body 
of  Sainte-Helene.  "  Your  musket  did  this,"  said 
Perrot,  pointing  down.    "  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

Gering  stooped  over  and  looked.  "  My  God !  "  he 
said,  "  Sainte-Helene ! " 

Perrot  crossed  himself  and  mumbled  a  prayer. 
Then  he  took  from  his  bosom  a  scarf  and  drew  it 
over  the  face  of  the  dead  man.  He  turned  to  Lon- 
gueil. 

"  And  here,  monsieur,  is  another  brother  of  Mon- 
sieur Iberville,"  he  said. 

Longueil  was  insensible  but  not  dangerously 
wounded.  Perrot  gave  a  signal  and  the  two  brothers 
were  lifted  and  carried  down  towards  the  ford,  fol- 


A  BROTHER'S  BLOOD  CRYING. 


237 


ime  they 

patched 

I  knowl- 

easy  as 

to  effect 

is  sword 
eur,  and 
like." 
3ad  body 
is,"  said 


»> 


3d ! "  he 

prayer, 
drew  it 
to  Lon- 

)f  Mon- 

yerously 
brothers 
)rd,  fol- 


lowed by  Perrot  and  Gering.  On  their  way  they  met 
Iberville. 

All  the  brother,  the  comrade,  in  Iberville  spoke 
first.  He  felt  Longueil's  hand  and  touched  his  pulse, 
then  turned,  as  though  he  had  not  seen  Gering,  to  the 
dead  body  of  Sainte-Helene.  Motioning  to  the  men 
to  put  it  down,  he  stooped  and  took  Perrot's  scarf 
xrom  the  dead  face.  It  was  yet  warm,  and  the  hand- 
some features  wore  a  smile.  Iberville  looked  lor  a 
moment  with  a  strange,  cold  quietness.  He  laid  his 
hand  upon  the  brow,  touched  the  cheek,  gave  a  great 
sigh,  and  made  the  sacred  gesture  over  the  face ;  then 
taking  his  own  handkerchief  he  spread  it  over  the 
face.  Presently  he  motioned  for  the  bodies  to  be  car- 
ried on. 

Perrot  whispered  to  him,  and  now  he  turned  and 
looked  at  Gering  with  a  malignant  steadiness. 

"  You  have  had  the  great  honour,  sir,"  he  said, 
"to  kill  one  of  the  bravest  gentlemen  of  France. 
More  than  once  to-day  myself  and  my  friend  here  " — 
pointing  to  Perrot — '-could  have  killed  you.  Why 
did  we  not?  Think  you  that  you  might  kill  my 
brother,,  whose  shoe  latchet  were  too  high  for  you  ? 
Monsieur,  the  sum  mounts  up."    His  voice  was  full 


238 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


of  bitterness  and  hatred.     "  Why  did  we  spare  you  ?  " 
he  repeated,  and  paused. 

Gering  could  understand  Iberville's  quiet,  vicious 
anger.  He  would  rather  have  lost  a  hand  than  have 
killed  Sainte-Hel^ne,  who  had,  on  board  the  Maid  of 
Provence,  treated  him  with  great  courtesy.  He  only 
shook  his  head  now. 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Iberville.  «  We  have 
spared  you  to  try  you  for  a  spy.  And  after — after ! " 
— his  laugh  was  not  pleasant  to  hear. 

"  A  spy  ?    It  is  false  !  "  cried  Gering. 

"  You  will  remember,  monsieur,  that  once  before 
you  gave  me  the  lie  ! " 

Gering  made  a  proud  gesture  of  defiance,  but  an- 
swered nothing.  That  night  he  was  lodged  in  the 
citadel. 


m 


V" 


CHAPTER  XX. 


A   TRAP  IS   SET. 


Gerinq  was  tried  before  Governor  Frontenac  and 
the  full  council.  It  was  certain  that  he,  while  a 
prisoner  at  Quebec,  had  sent  to  Boston  j^lans  of  the 
town,  the  condition  of  the  defences,  the  stores,  the 
general  armament  and  the  approaches,  for  the  letter 
was  intercepted. 

Gering*s  defence  was  straightforward.  He  held 
that  he  had  sent  the  letter  at  a  time  when  he  was  a 
prisoner  simply,  which  was  justifiable ;  not  when  a 
prisoner  on  parole,  which  was  shameless.  The  tem- 
per of  the  court  was  against  him.  Most  important 
was  the  enmity  of  the  Jesuits,  whose  hatred  of  Puri- 
tanism cried  out  for  sacrifice.  They  had  seen  the 
work  of  the  saints  in  every  turn  of  the  late  siege,  and 
they  believed  that  the  Lord  had  delivered  the  man 
into  their  hands.  In  secret  ways  their  influence  was 
strong  upon  many  of  the  council,  particularly  those 

(239) 


240 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


■! 


1 


wlio  wore  not  soldiers.  A  soldier  cau  appreciuto 
bravery,  and  Gering  had  been  courageous.  But  he 
had  killed  one  of  the  most  beloved  of  Canadian  offi- 
cers, tlie  gallant  Sainte-Heleno !  Frontenac,  who 
foresaw  an  end  of  which  the  council  could  not  know, 
summed  up,  not  unfairly,  against  Gering. 

Gering's  defence  was  able,  proud,  and  sometimes 
passionate.  Once  or  twice  his  words  stung  his  judges 
like  whips  across  their  faces.  He  showed  no  fear; 
he  asked  no  mercy.  He  held  that  he  was  a  prisoner 
of  war,  and  entitled  to  be  treated  as  such.  So  strong, 
indeed,  was  his  pleading,  so  well  did  his  stout  courage 
stand  by  him,  that  had  Count  Frontenac  balanced 
in  his  favour  he  might  have  been  quit  of  the  charge 
of  spying.  But  before  the  trial  Iberville  had  had 
solitary  talk  with  Frontenac,  in  which  a  request  was 
repeated  and  a  promise  renewed. 

Gering  was  condemned  to  die.  It  was  perhaps  the 
bravest  moment  of  a  brave  life. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  have  heard  your  sen- 
tence, but,  careless  of  military  honour  as  you  are,  you 
will  not  dare  put  me  to  death.  Do  not  think  because 
we  have  failed  this  once  that  we  shall  not  succeed 
again.     I  tell  you  that  if,  instead  of  raw  Boston 


A  TRAP  IS  SET. 


241 


3preciiito 
But  he 
lian  ofti- 
ac,  who 
ot  know, 

metimes 
is  judges 
no  fear; 
prisoner 
)  strong, 
courage 
aalanced 
3  charge 
lad  had 
lest  was 

laps  the 

►ur  sen- 
ire,  you 
because 
succeed 
Boston 


sailors,  ploughmen,  and  merchant  captains,  and  fish- 
ing craft  and  trading  vessels,  I  had  three  English 
warships  and  one  thousand  men,  I  would  level  your 
town  from  the  citadel  to  the  altar  of  St.  Joseph's.  I 
do  not  fear  to  die,  nor  that  I  shall  die  by  your  will ; 
but,  if  so, 'twill  be  with  English  loathing  of  injustice." 

His  speech  was  little  like  to  mollify  his  judges, 
and  at  his  reference  to  St.  Joseph's  a  red  spot  showed 
upon  many  cheeks,  while  to  the  charge  against  their 
military  honour,  Frontenac's  e v  i  lighted  ominously. 
But  the  governor  merely  said,  "You  have  a  raw 
temper,  sir.  We  will  chasten  you  with  bread  and 
water ;  and  it  were  well  for  you,  even  by  your  strange 
religion,  to  qualify  for  passage  from  this  world." 

Gering  was  taken  back  to  prison.  As  he  travelled 
the  streets  he  needed  all  his  fortitude,  for  his  fiery 
speech  had  gone  abroad,  distorted  from  its  meaning, 
and  the  common  folk  railed  at  him.  As  chastening, 
it  was  good  exercise ;  but  when  now  and  again  the 
name  of  Sainte-Helene  rang  towards  him,  a  cloud 
passed  over  his  face ;  that  touched  him  in  a  tender 
corner. 

He  had  not  met  Iberville  since  his  capture,  but 
now,  on  entering  the  prison,  he  saw  his  enemy  not  a 


I       ) 


242 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


dozen  paces  from  the  door,  pale  and  stern.  Neither 
made  a  sign,  but  with  a  bitter  sigh  Gering  entered. 
It  was  curious  how  their  fortunes  liad  sea-sawed  the 
one  against  t!:c  other  for  twelve  years. 

Left  alone  in  his  cell  with  his  straw  and  bread  and 
water,  he  looked  round  mechanically.  It  was  yet 
afternoon.  All  at  once  it  came  to  him  that  this  was 
not  the  cell  which  he  had  left  that  day.  He  got  up 
and  began  to  examine  it.  Like  every  healthy  prison- 
er, he  thought  upon  means  and  chances  of  escape. 

It  did  not  seem  a  regular  cell  for  prisoners,  for 
there  was  a  second  door.  This  was  in  one  corner  and 
very  narrow,  the  walls  not  coming  to  a  .'ight  angle, 
but  having  another  little  strip  of  wall  between.  He 
tried  to  settle  its  position  by  tracing  in  his  mind  the 
way  he  had  come  through  the  prison.  Iberville  or 
Perrot  could  have  done  so  instinctively,  but  he  was 
not  woodsman  enough.  He  thought,  however,  that 
the  doorway  led  to  a  staircase,  like  most  doors  of  the 
kind  in  old  buildings.  There  was  the  window.  It 
was  small  and  high  up  from  the  floor,  and  even  could 
he  loosen  the  bars,  it  were  not  possible  to  squeeze 
through.  Besides,  there  was  the  yard  to  cross  and 
the  outer  wall  to  scale.     And  that  achieved,  with  the 


A  TItAP  IS  SET. 


243 


Neither 
mtered. 
wed  the 

3ad  and 
vas  yet 
liis  was 
got  up 
prison- 
,pe. 

ers,  for 

ler  and 

angle, 

He 

nd  the 

ille  or 

le  was 

,  that 

of  the 

hr.     It 

could 

ueeze 

s  and 

1  the 


town  still  full  of  armed  men,  lie  would  have  a  perilous 
run.  lie  tried  the  door :  it  was  stoutly  fastened  ;  the 
bolts  were  on  the  other  side ;  the  keyhole  was  filled. 
Here  A\ns  sufficient  exasperation.  He  had  secreted  a 
small  knife  on  his  person,  and  he  now  sat  down, 
turned  it  over  in  his  hand,  looked  up  at  the  window 
and  the  smooth  wall  below  it,  at  the  mockiug  door, 
then  smiled  at  his  own  poor  condition  and  gave  him- 
self to  cheerless  meditation. 

He  was  concerned  most  for  his  wife.  It  was  not 
in  him  to  give  up  till  the  inevitable  was  on  him,  and 
he  could  not  yet  believe  that  Count  Frontenac  would 
carry  out  the  sentence.  At  the  sudden  thought  of 
the  rope, — so  ignominious,  so  hateful — he  shuddered. 
But  the  shame  of  it  was  for  his  wife,  who  had  dissi- 
pated a  certain  selfish  and  envious  strain  in  him. 
Jessica  had  drawn  from  him  the  Puritanism  which 
had  made  him  self-conscious,  envious,  insular. 


R 


CHAPTER   XXI. 


AN   UNTOWAltD    MESSENGER. 


A  FEW  days  after  this,  Jessica,  at  her  home  in 
Boston, — in  the  room  where  she  had  promised  her 
father  to  be  George  Gering's  wife, — sat  watching  the 
sea.  Its  slow  swinging  music  came  up  to  her  through 
the  October  air.  Not  far  from  her  sat  an  old  man, 
his  hands  clasping  a  chair-arm,  a  book  in  his  lap,  his 
chin  sunk  on  his  breast.  The  figure,  drooping  help- 
lessly, had  still  a  distinguished  look,  an  air  of  honour- 
able pride.  Presently  he  raised  his  head,  his  drowsy 
eyes  lighted  as  they  rested  on  her,  and  he  said,  "  The 
fleet  has  not  returned,  my  dear?  Quebec  is  not  yet 
taken?" 

"  No,  father,"  she  replied,  "  not  yet." 

"  Phips  is  a  great  man — a  great  man  I "  he  said, 
chuckling.     "  Ah,  the  treasure  ! " 

Jessica  did  not  reply.  Her  fingers  went  up  to  her 
eyes ;  they  seemed  to  cool  the  hot  lids. 

(244) 


AN   I  NTOWAlll)   MESSKNUKR. 


245 


lome  in 
sed  her 
ing  the 
through 
d  man, 
lap,  his 
g  help- 
lonour- 
drowsy 
,  "  The 
lot  yet 


e  said, 


to  her 


"Ay,  ay,  it  was  good,"  he  added,  in  a  (juavcriiig 
voice,  "  and  I  gave  you  your  dowry  !  " 

Now  tliere  was  a  gentle,  soft  laugh  of  delight  and 
pride,  and  ho  reached  out  a  hand  towards  her.  She' 
responded  with  a  little  laugh  which  was  not  unlike 
his,  but  there  was  something  more :  that  old  sweet 
sprightliness  of  her  youth,  shot  through  with  a  haunt- 
ing modulation, — almost  pensiveness, — but  her  face 
was  self-possessed.  She  drew  near,  pressed  the  old 
man's  hand,  and  spoke  softly.  Presently  she  saw 
that  he  was  asleep.  She  sat  for  some  time,  not  stir- 
ring. At  last  she  was  about  to  rise  and  take  him  to 
his  room,  but  hearing  noises  in  the  street  she  stepped 
to  the  window.  There  were  men  below,  and  this 
made  her  apprehensive.  She  hurried  over,  kissed  the 
old  man,  passed  from  the  room,  and  met  her  old  serv- 
ant Ilulm  in  the  passage,  who  stretched  out  her  hand 
in  distress. 

"  What  is  it,  Hulm  ? "  she  said,  a  chill  at  her 
heart. 

"  Oh,  how  oan  I  tell  you ! "  quoth  the  wom.an. 
"Our  fleet  was  beaten,  and — and  my  master  is  a 
prisoner." 

The  wife  saw  that  this  was  not  all.    "  Tell  me 


246 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


everything,  Hulm,"  she  said  trembling,  yet  ready  for 
the  worst. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  mistress,  I  cannot ! " 

"  Hulm,  you  see  that  I  am  calm,"  she  answered. 
"  You  are  only  paining  me." 

"  They  are  to  try  him  for  his  life  !  "  She  caught 
her  mistress  by  the  waist,  but  Jessica  recovered  in- 
stantly. She  was  very  quiet,  very  pale,  yet  the 
plumbless  grief  of  her  eyes  brought  tears  to  Hulm's 
face.     She  stood  for  a  moment  in  deep  thought. 

"  Is  your  brother  Aaron  in  Boston,  Hulm  ? "  she 
asked  presently. 

"  He  is  below,  dear  mistress." 

"  Ask  him  to  step  to  the  dining-room.  And  that 
done,  please  go  to  my  father.  And,  Hulm,  dear 
creature,  you    can    aid    me    better    if    you    do  not 


weep 


» 


She  then  passed  down  a  side  staircase  and  entered 
the  diinng-room.  A  moment  afterwards  Aaron  Hulm 
came  in. 

"  Aaron,"  she  said,  as  he  stood  confused  before  her 
misery,  "  know  you  the  way  to  Quebec?" 

"  Indeed,  madam,  very  well.  Madam,  I  am  sor- 
ry- 


5> 


AN  UNTOWARD  MESSENGER. 


247 


2ady  for 


iswered. 


caught 
3red  in- 
yet  the 
Hulm's 
i. 
1?"  she 


nd  that 
n,  dear 
do  not 

entered 
Hulm 

ore  her 

n  sor- 


"  Let  us  not  dwell  upon  it,  Aaron.  Can  you  get  a 
few  men  together  to  go  there  ?  " 

"  Within  an  hour." 

"  Very  well,  I  shall  be  ready." 

"You,  madam — ready?  You  do  not  think  of 
going  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  going." 

"  But,  madam,  it  is  not  safe.  The  Abenaquis  and 
Iroquois  are  not  friendly,  and " 

"  Is  this  friendly  ?  Is  it  like  a  good  friend,  Aaron 
Hulm  ?    Did  I  not  nurse  your  mother  when " 

He  dropped  on  one  knee,  took  her  hand  and  kissed 
it.  "  Madam,"  he  said  loyally,  "  I  will  do  anything 
you  ask  ;  I  feared  only  for  your  safety." 

An  hour  afterwards  she  came  into  the  room  where 
her  father  still  slept.  Stooping,  she  kissed  his  fore- 
head and  fondled  his  thin  grey  hair.  Then  she  spoke 
to  Hulm. 

"  Tell  him,"  she  said,  "  that  I  will  come  back  soon : 
that  my  husband  needs  me,  and  that  I  have  gone  to 
him.  Tell  him  that  we  will  both  come  back — both, 
Hulm,  you  understand ! " 

"  Dear  mistress,  I  understand."    But  the  poor  soul 

made  a  gesture  of  despair. 
17 


i" 


11 


248 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


"  It  is  even  as  I  say.  We  will  both  come  back," 
was  the  quiet  reply.  "  Something  as  truthful  as  God 
Himself  tells  me. — Take  care  of  my  dear  father — I 
know  you  will;  keep  frm  him  the  bad  news,  and 
comfort  him." 

Then  with  an  affectionate  farewell  she  went  to  her 
room,  knelt  down  and  prayed.  When  she  rose  she 
said  to  herself,  "  I  am  thankful  now  that  I  have  no 
child." 

In  ten  minutes  a  little  company  of  people,  led  by 
Aaron  Hulm,  started  away  from  Boston,  making  for  a 
block-house  fifteen  miles  distant,  where  they  were  to 
sleep. 

The  journey  was  perilous,  and  more  than  once  it 
seemed  as  if  they  could  not  reach  Quebec  alive,  but 
no  member  of  the  party  was  more  cheerful  than  Jes- 
sica. Her  bravery  and  spirit  never  faltered  before  the 
others,  though  sometimes  at  night,  when  lying  awake, 
she  had  a  wild  wish  to  cry  out  or  to  end  her  troubles 
in  the  fast-flowing  Richelieu.  But  this  was  only  at 
night.  In  the  daytime  action  eased  the  strain,  and  at 
last  she  v/as  rewarded  by  seeing,  from  the  point  of 
Levis,  the  citadel  of  Quebec. 

They  were  questioned  and  kept  in  check  for  a 


AN  UNTOWARD  MESSENGER. 


249 


3  back," 

as  God 

ather — I 

3WS,  and 

it  to  her 
rose  she 
have  no 

e,  led  by 
ing  for  a 
r  were  to 

I  once  it 
live,  but 
lan  Jes- 
fore  the 
awake, 
Toubles 
only  at 
,  and  at 
Doint  of 

for  a 


time,  but  at  length  Aaron  and  herself  were  let  cross 
the  river.  It  was  her  first  sight  of  Quebec,  and  its 
•massive,  impregnable  form  struck  a  chill  to  her  heart : 
it  suggested  great  sternness  behind  it.  They  were 
passed  on  unmolested  towards  the  Chateau  St.  Louis. 
The  anxious  wife  wished  to  see  Count  Frontenac  him- 
self and  then  to  find  Iberville.  Enemy  of  her  country 
though  he  was,  she  would  appeal  to  him.  As  she 
climbed  the  steep  steps  of  Mountain  Street,  worn  with 
hard  travel,  she  turned  faint.  But  the  eyes  of  curious 
folk  were  on  her,  and  she  drew  herself  up  bravely. 

She  was  admitted  almost  at  once  to  the  governor. 
He  was  at  dinner  when  she  came.  AVhen  her  message 
was  brought  to  him,  his  brows  twitched  with  surprise 
and  perplexity.  He  called  Maurice  Joval,  and  ordered 
that  she  be  shown  to  his  study  and  tendered  every 
courtesy. 

A  few  moments  later  he  entered  the  room.  Won- 
der and  admiration  crossed  his  face.  He  had  not 
thought  to  see  so  beautiful  a  woman.  Himself  an  old 
courtier,  he  knew  women,  and  he  could  understand 
how  Iberville  had  been  fascinated.  She  had  arranged 
her  toilette  at  Levis,  and  there  were  few  traces 
of  the  long,  hard  journey,  save  that  her  hands  and 


250 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


«i 


(»4 

i 


face  were  tanned.  The  eloquence  of  her  eyes,  the  sor- 
rowful, distant  smile  which  now  was  natural  to  her, 
worked  upon  the  old  soldier  before  she  spoke  a  word.  > 
And  after  she  had  spoken,  had  pleaded  her  husband's 
cause  and  appealed  to  the  nobleman's  chivalry,  Fron- 
tenac  was  moved.  But  his  face  was  troubled.  He 
drew  out  his  watch  and 'studied  it. 

Presently  he  went  to  the  door  and  called  Maurice 
Joval.  There  was  whispering,  and  then  the  young 
r  'in  went  away. 

"  Madam,  you  have  spoken  of  Monsieur  Iberville," 
said  the  governor.  "Years  ago  he  spoke  to  me  of 
you." 

Her  eyes  dropped,  and  then  they  raised  steadily, 
clearly.  "  I  am  sure,  sir,"  she  said,  "  that  Monsieur 
Iberville  would  tell  you  that  my  husband  could  never 
be  dishonourable.  They  have  been  enemies,  but  noble 
enemies." 

"  Yet,  Monsieur  Iberville  migV  I:  be  prejudiced," 
rejoined  the  governor.  "  A  brother's  life  has 
weight." 

"  A  brother's  life ! "   she  broke  in  fearfully. 

"  Madame,  your  husband  killed  Iberville's 
brother." 


AN  UNTOWARD  MESSENGER. 


251 


he  sor- 
to  her, 
a  word.^ 
sbaiid's 
,  Fron- 
d.    He 

klaiirice 
young 

Ji'ville," 
me  of 

teadily, 
onsieur 
never 
noble 

iced," 
'e    has 

uy- 

rville's 


I 


She  swayed.  The  governor's  arm  was  as  quick 
to  her  waist  as  a  gallant's  of  twenty-five :  not  his  to 
resist  the  despair  of  so  noble  a  creature.  He  was 
sorry  for  her;  but  he  knew  that  if  all  had  gone  as 
had  been  planned  by  Iberville,  within  a  half-hour  this 
woman  would  be  a  widow. 

"With  some  women,  perhaps,  he  would  not  have 
hesitated:  he  would  have  argued  that  the  prize  was 
to  the  victor,  and  that,  Gering  gone,  Jessica  would 
amiably  drift  upon  Iberville.  But  it  came  to  him  that 
she  was  not  as  many  other  women.  He  looked  at  his 
watch  again,  and  she  mistook  the  action. 

"  Oh,  your  excellency,"  she  said,  "  do  not  grudge 
these  moments  to  one  pleading  for  a  life — for  jus- 
tice." 

"  You  mistake,  madame,"  he  said  ;  "  I  was  not 
grudging  the  tinje — for  myself." 

At  that  moment  Maurice  Joval  entered  and  whis- 
pered to  the  governor.    Frontenac  rose. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  your  husband  has  escaped." 

A  cry  broke  from  her.    "  Escaped !  escaped ! " 

She  saw  a  strange  look  in  the  governor's  eyes. 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  all,"  she  urged ;  "  there 
is  more.     Oh,  your  excellency,  speak ! " 


1 


n 


.1 
■1% 


252 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


"Only     this,    madame:     he    may    be    retaken 


and- 


i> 


"  And  then  ?    What  then  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Upon  what  happens  then,"  he  as  di'ily  as  regret- 
f uHy  added,  "  I  shall  have  no  power." 

But  to  the  quick  searching  prayer,  the  proud  elo- 
quence of  the  woman,  the  governor,  bound  though  ho 
was  to  secrecy,  could  not  be  adamant. 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  I  can  do  for  you,"  he  said 
at  last.     "  You  know  Father  Dollier  de  Casson  ?  " 

To  her  assent,  he  added,  "  Then  go  to  him.  Ask 
no  questions.  If  anything  can  be  done,  he  can  do  it 
for  you ;  that  he  will  I  do  not  know." 

She  could  not  solve  the  riddle,  but  she  must  work 
it  out.  There  was  the  one  great  fact :  her  husband 
had  escaped. 

"You  will  do  all  you  can  do,  your  excellency?" 
she  said. 

"  Indeed,  madame,  I  have  done  all  I  can,"  he  said. 

With  impulse  she  caught  his  hand  and  kissed  it. 
A  minute  afterwards  she  was  gone  with  Maurice 
Joval,  who  had  orders  to  bring  her  to  the  abbe's 
house — that,  and  no  more. 

The  governor,  left  alone,  looked  at  the  hand  that 


AN   UNTOWARD  MESSENGER. 


253 


that 


she  had  kissed  and  said,  "  Well,  well,  I  am  but  a  fool 
still.  Yet — a  woman  in  a  million! "  He  took  out  his 
watch.    «  Too  late  ! "  he  added.     "  Poor  lady  ! " 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  Jessica  met  the  abbe  on 
his  own  doorstep.  Maurice  Joval  disappeared,  and 
the  priest  and  the  woman  w<^re  alone  together.  She 
told  him  what  had  just  happened. 

"  There  is  some  mystery,"  she  said,  pain  in  her 
voice.    "  Tell  me,  has  my  husband  been  retaken  ?  " 

"  Madame,  he  has." 

"  Is  he  in  danger  ?  " 

The  priest  hesitated,  then,  presently  inclined  his 
head  in  assent.    "  Yes." 

"  Once  before  I  talked  with  you,"  she  said,  "  and 
you  spoke  good  things.  You  are  a  priest  of  God.  I 
know  that  you  can  help  me,  or  Count  Frontenac 
would  not  have  sent  me  to  you.  Oh,  will  you  take  me 
to  my  husband  ?  " 

If  Count  Frontenac  had  had  a  struggle,  here  was 
a  greater.  First,  the  man  was  a  priest  in  the  days 
when  the  Huguenots  were  scattering  to  the  four  ends 
of  the  earth.  The  Toman  and  her  husband  were 
heretics,  and  what  better  were  they  than  thousands  of 
others?    Then,  Sainte-Hel^ne  had  been  the  soldier- 


r- 

254 

THE 

TRAIL 

OF 

THE  SWORD. 

priest' 

3  pupil. 

Last  of 

al), 

there  was 

Iberville, 

over 

whom 

this  woman  had  cast 

a  charm 

perilous  to  his 

soul's 

salvation. 

He  loved  Iberville  as  his  own 

son. 

rr 


The  priest  in  him  decided  against  the  woman ;  the 
soldier  in  him  was  with  Iberville  in  this  event — for 
a  soldier's  revenge  was  its  mainspring.  But  beneath 
all  was  a  kindly  soul  which  intolerance  could  not 
warp,  and  this  at  last  responded. 

His  first  words  gave  her  a  touch  of  hope. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  I  know  not  that  aught  can 
be  done,  but  come.' 


»> 


I 


over 
5  his 

son. 
;  the 
—for 
leath 
I  not 


;  can 


I 


CHyiPTER  XXII. 

FROM   tiger's   claw   TO   LION'S   MOUTH. 

Every  nation  has  its  traitors,  and  there  was  an 
English  rener  ie  soldier  at  Quebec.  At  Iberville's 
suggestion  he  w  '  made  one  of  the  guards  of  the 
prison.  It  was  he  that,  pretending  to  let  Gering  win 
his  confidence,  at  last  aided  him  to  escape  through 
the  narrow  oorner-door  of  his  cell. 

Gering  got  free  of  the  citadel — miraculously,  as  ho 
thought;  and,  striking  off  from  th'^  road,  began  to 
make  his  way  by  a  roundabout  to  the  St.  Charles 
River,  where  at  some  lonely  spot  he  might  find  a  boat. 
No  alarm  had  been  given,  and  as  time  passed  his 
chances  seemed  growing,  when  suddenly  there  sprang 
from  the  grass  round  him  armed  men,  who  closed  in, 
and  at  the 'points  of  swords  and  rapiers  seized  him. 
Scarcely  a  word  was  spoken  by  his  captors,  and  he 
did  not  know  who  they  were  until,  after  h  long  de- 
tour, he  was  brought  inside  a  manor-house,  and  there, 

(255) 


256 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


in  tlie  light  of  flaring  candles,  faced  Perrot  and  Iber- 
ville.    It  was  Perrot  who  had  seized  him. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Perrot,  saluting,  "  be  sure  this  is 
a  closer  prison  than  that  on  the  heights."  This  said, 
ho  wheeled  and  left  the  room. 

The  two  gentlemen  were  left  alone.  Gering  folded 
his  arms  and  stood  defiant. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Iberville,  in  a  low  voice,  "  we 
are  fortunate  to  meet  so  at  last." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  was  the  reply. 

"Then  let  me  speak  of  that  which  was  unfor- 
tunate. Once  you  called  me  a  fool  and  a  liar.  We 
fought  and  were  interrupted.  We  met  again,  with 
the  same  ending,  and  I  was  wounded  by  the  man 
Bucklaw.  Before  the  wound  was  healed  I  had  to 
leave  for  Quebec.  Yc^s  passed ;  you  know  well  how. 
We  met  in  the  Spaniards*  country,  where  you  killed 
my  servant ;  and  again  at  Fort  Rupert,  you  remember. 
At  the  fort  you  surrendered  before  we  had  a  chance 
to  fight.  Again,  we  were  on  the  hunt  for  treasure. 
You  got  it ;  and  almost  in  your  own  harbour  I  found 
you,  and  fought  you  and  a  greater  ship  with  you,  and 
ran  you  down.  As  your  ship  sank  you  sprang  from  it 
to  my  own  ship — a  splendid  leap.  •  Then  you  were 


i 


FROM  TIGER'S  CLAW  TO  LION'S  MOUTH.   257 


we 


nfor- 
We 
with 
man 
,d  to 
how. 
illed 
ber. 
ance 
sure, 
und 
and 
m  it 
Iwere 


my  guest,  and  wo  could  not  fight;  all — all  unfor- 
tunate ! " 

He  ptiused.  Gering  was  cool ;  he  saw  Iberville's 
purpose,  and  he  was  ready  to  respond  to  it. 

"  And  then  ? "  asked  Gering.  "  Your  charge  is 
long — is  it  finished  ?  " 

A  hard  light  came  into  Iberville's  eyes. 

"  And  then,  monsieur,  you  did  me  the  honour  to 
come  to  my  own  country.  We  did  not  meet  in  the 
fighting,  and  you  killed  my  brother."  Iberville 
crossed  himself.  "  Then  " — his  voice  was  hard  and 
bitter — "  you  were  captured  ;  no  longer  a  prisoner  of 
war,  but  one  who  had  broken  his  parole.  You  were 
thrown  into  prison,  you  were  tried  and  condemned  to 
death.  There  remained  two  things  :  that  you  should 
be  left  to  hang,  or  an  escape — that  we  should  meet 
here  and  now." 

"  You  chose  the  better  wav,  monsieur." 

"  I  treat  you  with  consideration,  I  hope,  mon- 
sieur." 

Gering  waved  his  liand  in  acknowledgment,  and 
said,  "  What  weapons  do  you  choose  ?  " 

Iberville  quietly  laid  on  the  table  a  number  of 
swords. 


258 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


"  If  I  should  survive  this  duel,  monsieur,"  ques- 
tioned Goring,  "  shall  I  be  free  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,  escape  will  be  unnecessary." 

"  Before  we  engage,  let  me  say  that  I  regret  your 
brother's  death." 

"  Monsieur,  I  hope  to  deepen  that  regret,"  an- 
swered Iberville  quietly.  Then  they  took  up  their 
swords. 


ques- 


t  your 


»> 


an- 


their 


^ 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

AT  THE   GATES  OF   MISFOKTUNB. 

Meanwhile  the  abbe  and  Jessica  were  making 
their  way  swiftly  towards  tlio  manor-house.  IMiey 
scarcely  spoke  as  they  went,  but  in  Jessica's  mind  was 
a  vague  horror.  Lights  sparkled  on  the  crescent  shore 
of  Beauport,  and  the  torches  of  fishermen  flared  upon 
the  St.  Charles.  She  looked  back  once  towards  the 
heights  of  Quebec  and  saw  the  fires  of  many  homes — 
they  scorched  her  eyes.  She  asked  no  questions.  The 
priest  beside  her  was  silent,  not  looking  at  her  at  all. 
At  last  he  turned  and  said — 

"  Madame,  whatever  has  happened,  whatever  may 
happen,  I  trust  you  will  be  brave." 

"  Monsieur  I'Abbe,"  she  answered,  "  I  have  trav- 
elled from  Boston  here — can  you  doubt  it?" 

The  priest  sighed.  "  May  the  hope  that  gave  you 
strength  remain,  madame ! " 

A  little  longer  and  then  they  stood  within  a  gar- 

(259) 


260 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  SWORD. 


den  thick  with  plants  and  trees.  As  they  passed 
through  it,  Jessica  was  vaguely  aware  of  the  rich  fra- 
grance of  fallen  leaves  and  the  sound  of  waves  wasli- 
ing  the  foot  of  the  clififs. 

The  abbe  gave  a  low  call,  and  almost  instantly 
Perrot  stood  before  them.  Jessica  recognised  him. 
With  a  little  cry  sh'^  stepped  to  him  quickly  and 
placed  her  hand  upon  his  arm.  She  did  not  seem 
conscious  that  he  wa?  her  husband's  enemy :  her  hus- 
band's life  was  in  danger,  and  it  must  be  saved  at  any 
cost. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "  where  is  my  husband  ? 
You  know.     Tell  me." 

Perrot  put  her  hand  from  his  arm  gently,  and 
looked  at  the  priest  in  doubt  and  surprise. 

The  abbe  said  not  a  word,  but  stood  gazing  off 
into  the  night. 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me  of  my  husband  ? "  she  re- 
peated. "He  is  within  that  house?"  She  pointed  to 
the  manor-house.  "He  is  in  danger;  I  will  go  to 
him." 

She  made  as  if  to  go  to  the  door,  but  he  stepped 
before  her. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  you  cannot  enter." 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  MISFORTUNE. 


261 


3y  passed 
rich  f fa- 
res wasli- 

instantly 
ised  him. 
ckly  and 
not  seem 
her  hus- 
ed  at  any 

husband  ? 

itly,  and 


iizing  off 


she  re- 
ointed  to 
ill  go  to 

!  stepped 


Just  then  the  moon  shot  from  behind  a  cloud,  and 
all  their  faces  could  be  seen.  There  was  a  flame  in 
Jessica's  eyes  which  Perrot  could  not  stand,  and  he 
turned  away.  She  was  too  much  the  woman  to  plead 
weakly. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  whose  house  this  is." 

"  Madame,  it  is  Monsieur  Iberville's." 

She  could  not  check  a  gasp,  but  both  the  priest 
and  the  woodsman  saw  how  intrepid  was  the  struggle 
in  her,  and  they  both  pitied. 

"  Now  I  understand  !  Oh,  now  I  understand  ! " 
she  cried.  "  A  plot  was  laid.  He  was  let  escape  that 
he  might  be  cornered  here — one  single  man  against  a 
whole  country.     Oh,  cowards !  cowards  ! " 

"  Pardon  me,  madame,"  said  Perrot,  bristling  up, 
"  not  cowards.  Your  husband  has  a  chance  for  his 
life.  You  know  Monsieur  Iberville — he  is  a  man  all 
honour.  More  than  once  he  might  have  had  your  hus- 
band's life,  but  he  gave  it  to  him." 

Her  foot  tapped  the  ground  impatiently,  her  hands 
clasped  before  her.  "  Go  on  !  oh,  go  on  ! "  she  said. 
"  What  is  it?  why  is  he  here?  Have  you  no  pity,  no 
heart  ?  "  She  turned  towards  the  priest.  "  You  are 
a  man  of  God.     You  said  once  that  you  would  help 


262 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


me  make  peace  between  my  husband  and  Monsieur 
Iberville,  but  you  join  here  with  his  enemies." 

"Madame,  believe  me,  you  are  wrong.  I  have 
done  all  I  could  :  I  have  brought  you  here." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  forgive  me,"  she  replied.  She  turned 
to  Perrot  again.  "  It  is  with  you,  then.  You  helped 
to  save  my  life  once — what  right  have  you  to  destroy 
it  now?  You  and  Monsieur  Iberville  gave  me  the 
world  when  it  were  easy  to  have  lost  it ;  now  when 
the  world  is  everything  to  me  because  my  husband 
lives  in  it,  you  would  take  his  life  and  break  mine." 

Suddenly  a  thought  flashed  into  her  mind.  Her 
eyes  brightened,  her  hand  trembled  towards  Perrot, 
and  touched  him.  "  Once  I  gave  you  something, 
monsieur,  which  I  had  worn  on  my  own  bosom.  That 
little  gift— of  a  grateful  girl,  tell  me,  have  you  it 
still  ?  " 

Perrot  drew  from  his  doublet  the  medallion  she 
had  given  him,  and  fingered  it  uncertainly. 

"  Then  you  value  it,"  she  added.  "  You  value  my 
gift,  and  yet  when  my  husband  is  a  prisoner,  to  what 
perilous  ends  God  only  knows,  you  deny  me  to  him. 
I  will  not  plead  ;  I  ask  ao  my  right.  I  have  come 
from  Count  Frontenac;  he  sent  me  to  this  good 


[onsieur 

I  have 

turned 

helped 

destroy 

me  the 

iw  when 

tiusband 

line." 

d.    Her 

Perrot, 

ething, 

,    That 

you  it 

ton  she 

lue  my 
to  what 
lo  him. 
come 
good 


AT  THE  GATES  OP  MISFORTUNE. 


2G3 


priest  here.  AVere  my  husband  in  the  citadel  now  I 
should  be  admitted.  He  is  here  with  the  man  who, 
yen  know,  once  said  he  loved  me.  My  husband  is 
wickedly  held  a  prisoner ;  I  ask  for  entrance  to  him." 

Pleadings  apprehension,  seemed  gone  from  her; 
she  stood  superior  to  her  fear  and  sorrow.  The  priest 
reached  a  hand  persuasively  towards  Perrot,  and  he 
was  about  to  speak,  but  Perrot,  coming  close  to  the 
troubled  wife,  said,  "  The  door  is  locked  ;  they  are 
there  alone.  I  cannot  let  you  in,  but  come  with  me. 
You  have  a  voice — it  may  be  heard.     Come." 

Presently  all  three  were  admitted  into  the  dim 
hallwav. 


18 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


IN   WHICH   THE   SWORD   IS   SHEATHED. 


How  had  it  gone  with  Iberville  and  Gering? 

The  room  was  large,  scantily,  though  comfortably, 
furnished.  For  a  moment  after  they  took  up  their 
swords  they  eyed  each  other  calmly.  Iberville  pres- 
ently smiled  :  he  was  r'HMdling  that  night,  years  ago, 
when  by  the  light  of  the  old  P'ltch  lantern  they  had 
fallen  upon  each  other,  swordsmen,  even  in  those 
days,  of  more  than  iisiial  merit.  They  had  practised 
greatly  since.  Iberville  was  the  taller  of  the  two, 
Ge'ing  the  stouter.  Iberville's  eye  was  slow,  calculat- 
u\*x.,  penetrating;  Gering's  was  swift,  strangely  vigil- 
ant. Iberville's  hand  was  large,  compact,  and  supple ; 
Gering's  small  and  firm. 

They  drew  and  fell  on  guard.  Each  at  first 
played  warily.  Tliey  were  keen  to  know  how  much 
of  skill  was  likely  to  enter  into  this  duel,  for  eacTi 
meant  that  it  should  be  deadly.     In  the  true  swords- 

('2(54) 


ED. 

ring? 

omfo^'tably, 
k  up  their 
irville  pres- 
,  years  ago, 

n  they  had 
in  those 
pi-actised 

■  tlie  two, 
iv,  calculat- 

gely  vigil- 

nd  supple ; 

h  at  first 
liow  much 
1,  for  eacli 
[le  swords- 


IN   WHICH   THE  SWORD  IS  SHEATHED.     «?f,5 

man  there  is  found  that  cur' jus  sixLh  pcjose,  vrhich  is 
a  combin  .tion  of  touch,  sight,  apv  r  leabiaD,  divina- 
tion. They  had  scarcely  made  hr.'  a  f.ozen  passes 
before  each  knew  that  he  was  pitted  agaiiist  a  master 
of  the  art — an  art  partly  lost  in  an  age  which  oetter 
loves  the  talk  of  swords  than  the  handling  of  them. 
But  the  advantage  was  with  Iberville,  not  merely 
because  of  more  practice, — Gering  made  up  for  that 
by  a  fine  certainty  of  nerve, — but  because  he  had  a 
prescient  quality  of  mind,  joined  to  the  calculation  of 
the  perfect  gamester. 

From  the  first  Iberville  played  a  waiting  game. 
He  knew  Gering's  impulsive  nature,  and  he  wished  to 
draw  him  on,  to  irritate  him,  as  only  one  swordsman 
can  irritate  another.  Gering  suddenly  led  off  with  a 
disengage  from  the  carte  line  ;  i.o  tierce,  and.  as  he 
expected,  met  the  short  pai;  5  and  riposte.  Gering 
tried  by  many  means  to  draw  Ibor ville's  attack,  and, 
failing  to  do  so  played  more  .apidiythan  he  ought, 
which  was  what  Iberville  wished. 

Presently  Iberville's  chance  came.  In  the  care- 
lessness of  annoyance,  Gering  loft  part  of  his  sword 
arm  uncovered,  while  he  was  meditating  a  complex 
attack,  and  he  paid  the  penalty  by  getting  a  sharp 


?r: 


266 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


li 


■"i< 


prick  from  Iberville's-sword  point.  Tlie  warning 
came  to  Gering  in  time.  When  they  crossed  sword 
again,  Iberville,  whether  by  chance  or  by  momentary 
want  of  skill,  parried  Gering's  disengage  from  tierce  to 
carte  on  to  hia  own  left  shoulder. 

Both  had  now  got  a  taste  of  blood,  and  there  is 
nothing  like  that  to  put  the  lust  of  combat  into  a 
man.  For  a  moment  or  two  the  fight  went  on  with 
no  special  feat,  but  so  hearty  became  the  action  that 
Iberville,  seeing  Gering  flag  a  little, — due  somewhat 
to  loss  of  blood, — suddenly  opened  such  a  rapid  at- 
tack on  the  advance  that  it  was  all  Gering  could  do 
to  parry,  without  thought  of  riposte,  the  successive 
lunges  of  the  swift  blade.  As  he  retreated,  Gering 
felt,  as  he  broke  ground,  that  he  was  nearing  the  wall, 
and,  even  as  he  parried,  incautiously  threw  a  half- 
glance  over  his  shoulder  to  see  how  near.  Iberville 
saw  his  chance,  his  finger  was  shaping  a  fatal  lunge, 
♦vhen  there  suddenly  came  from  the  hallway  a 
woman's  voice.  So  weird  was  it  that  both  swords- 
men drew  back,  and  once  more  Gering's  life  was  wait- 
inpf  in  the  hazard. 

Strange  to  say,  Iberville  recognised  the  voice  first. 
lie  was  angered  with  himself  now  that  he  had  paused 


IN   WUICn  THE  SWORD  IS  SHEATHED.     207 


e  warning 
jsed  sword 
nomentary 
m  tierce  to 

id  there  is 
bat  into  a 
it  on  with 
>ction  that 
somewhat 
b  rapid  at- 
y  could  do 
successive 
id,  Gering 

the  wall, 
Iv  a  half- 

Iberville 
jtal  lunge, 
jail  way  a 
sword  s- 
Iwas  wait- 

)ice  first. 
u  paused 


upon  the  lunge  and  saved  Gering.  Suddenly  there 
rioted  in  him  the  disappointed  vengeance  of  years. 
He  had  lost  her  once  by  sparing  this  man's  life. 
Should  he  lose  her  again  ?  His  sword  flashed  upward. 
At  that  moment  Goring  recognised  his  wife's  voice, 

* 

and  he  turned  pale.     "  My  wife  ! "  he  said. 

They  closed  again.  Gering  was  now  as  cold  as  he 
had  before  been  ardent,  and  he  played  with  malicious 
strength  and  persistency.  .  His  nerves  seemed  of  iron. 
But  there  had  come  to  Iberville  the  sardonic  joy  of 
one  who  plays  for  the  final  hazard,  knowing  that  he 
shall  win.  There  was  one  great  move  he  had  reserved 
for  the  last.  With  the  woman's  voice  at  the  door 
beseeching,  her  fingers  trembling  upon  the  panel, 
they  could  not  prolong  the  fight.  Therefore,  at  the 
moment  when  Gering  was  pressing  Iberville  hard,  the 
Frenchman  suddenly,  with  a  trick  of  the  Italian 
school,  threw  his  left  leg  en  arriere  and  made  a  lunge, 
which  ordinarily  would  have  spitted  his  enemy,  but  at 
the  critical  moment  one  word  came  ringing  clearly 
through  the  locked  door.  It  was  his  own  name,  not 
Iberville,  but — "  Pierre !   Pierre  ! " 

He  had  never  heard  the  voice  speak  that  name. 
It  put  out  his  judgment,  and   instead  of  his   sword 


208 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWOUD. 


passing  through  Goriug's  body  it  ouly  grazed  his 
ribs. 

Perhaps  there  was  in  him  some  ancient  touch  of 
superstition,  some  sense  cf  fatahsm,  which  now  made 
liim  rise  to  his  feet  and  tlirow  his  sword  upon  the 
table. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said  cynically,  "  again  we  are  un- 
fortunate." 

Then  he  went  to  the  door,  unlocked  it,  and  threw 
it  open  upon  Jessica.  She  came  in  upon  them  trem- 
bling, pale,  yet  glowing  with  her  anxiety. 

Instantly  Iberville  was  all  courtesy.  One  could 
not  have  guessed  that  he  had  just  been  engaged  in  a 
deadly  conflict.  As  his  wife  entered,  Gering  put  his 
sword  aside.  Iberville  closed  the  door,  and  the  three 
stood  looking  at  each  other  for  a  moment.  Jessica 
did  not  throw  herself  into  her  husband's  arms.  The 
position  was  too  painful,  too  tragic,  for  even  the  great 
emotion  in  her  heart.  Behind  Iberville's  courtesy 
she  read  the  deadly  mischief.  But  she  had  a  power 
born  for  imminent  circumstances,  and  her  mind  was 
made  up  as  to  her  course.  It  had  been  made  up 
when,  at  the  critical  moment,  she  had  called  ouc  Iber- 
ville's Christian  name.     She  rightly  judged  that  this 


razed   his 

touch  of 
low  mado 
upon   the 

3  are  un- 

uci  tlirew 
em  trem- 

ue  could 
iged  in  a 
put  his 
|ho  three 
Jessica 
s.  The 
le  great 
curtesy 
power 
ind  was 
|ade  up 
c  Iber- 
at  this 


IN   WHICH  THE  SWOUD  IS  SHEATHED.     2G9 

liad  saved  her  husband's  life,  for  she  guessed  that 
Iberville  was  the  better  swordsman. 

She  placed  her  hands  with  sliglit  resistance  on  the 
arms  of  her  husband,  who  was  about  to  clasp  her  to 
his  breast,  and  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  find  you,  George." 
Tliat  was  all. 

lie  also  had  heard  that  cry,  "  Pierre,"  and  he  felt 
shamed  that  his  life  was  spa 'ed  because  of  it — he 
knew  well  why  the  sword  had  not  gone  through  his 
body.  She  felt  less  humiliation  because,  as  it  seemed 
to  her,  she  had  a  right  to  ask  of  Iberville  what  no 
other  woman  could  ask  for  her  husband. 

A  moment  after,  at  Iberville's  request,  they  were 
all  seated.  Iberville  had  pretended  not  to  notice  the 
fingers  which  had  fluttered  towards  him.  As  yet 
nothing  had  been  said  about  the  duel,  as  if  by  tacit 
consent.  So  far  as  Jessica  was  concerned  it  might 
never  have  happened.  As  for  the  men,  the  swords 
were  there,  wet  with  the  blood  they  had  drawn,  but 
they  made  no  sign.  Iberville  put  meat  and  wine  and 
fruit  upon  the  table,  and  pressed  Jessica  to  take 
refreshment.  She  responded,  for  it  was  in  Iceeping 
with  her  purpose.  Presently  Iberville  said,  as  he 
poured   a  glass   of   wine   for  her,  "  Had  you   been 


270 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWOllI). 


ii 


expected,  madame,  there  were  better  entertain- 
ment." 

"  Your  entertainment,  monsieur,"  she  replied, 
"has  two  sides,"— she  glanced  at  the  swords — "and 
this  is  the  better." 

"  If  it  pleases  you,  madam.." 

"  I  dare  not  say,"  she  returned,  "  that  my  coming 
was  either  pleasant  or  expected." 

He  raised  his  glass  towards  her,  "  Madame,  I  am 
proud  to  pledge  you  once  more.  I  recall  the  first 
time  that  we  met." 

Her  reply  was  instant.  "  You  came,  an  ambassador 
of  peace  to  the  governor  of  New  York.  Monsieur,  I 
come,  an  ambassador  of  peace  to  you." 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  You  asked  me  then  what  was 
the  greatest,  bravest  thing  I  ever  did.  You  ever  had  a 
buoyant  spirit,  madame." 

"  Monsieur,"  shf  rejoined,  with  feeling,  "will  you 
let  mo  answer  that  question  for  you  now?  The 
bravest  and  greatest  thing  you  ever  did  was  to  give  a 
woman  back  her  happiness." 

"  Have  I  done  so  ?  " 

"In  your  heart,  yes,  I  believe.  A  little  while 
ago   my  husband's  life  and  freedom   were   in   your 


1 
IN   WHICH  THE  SWORD   IS  SHEATHED.     271 

3ntertain- 

hands — you  will  place  them  in  mine  now,  will  you 

not  ?  " 

replied, 

Iberville  did  not  reply  directly.     He  twisted   his 

Is — "  and 

wineglass  round,  sipped  from  it  pleasantly,  and  said, 

"  Pardon  mo,  madamc,  how  were  you  admitted  hero  ?  " 

She  told  him. 

y  coming 

"Singular,  singular  !"  he  replied  ;  "I  never  knew 

Perrot    fail   me    before.      But  you   have  eloquence, 

me,  I  am 

madame,  and  he  knew,  no  doubt,  that  you  would 

the   first 

always  be  welcome  to  my  home." 

There  was  that  in  his  voice  which  sent  the  blood 

ibassador 

stinging   through  Gering's  veins.     He  half  came    to 

msieur,  I 

his    feet,  but    his  wife's  warning,   pleading  glance 

brought  him  to  his  chair  again. 

vhat  was 

"  Monsieur,  tell  me,"  she  said,  "  will  you  give  my 

er  had  a 

husband  his  freedom  ?  " 

"  Madame,  his  life  is  the  State's." 

will  you 

"  But  he  is  in  your  hands  now.     Will  you  not  set 

'?    The 

him  free?     You  know  that  the  charge  against  him  is 

0  give  a 

false — false !     He  i?  no  spy.     Oh,  monsieur,  you  and 

he  have  been  enemies,  but  you  know  that  he  could 

not  do  a  dishonourable  thing." 

)  while 

"  Madame,  my  charges  against  him  are  true." 

u   your 

"  I  know  what  they  are,"  she  urged  earnestly  "  but 

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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14560 

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272 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWOUD. 


this  strife  is  not  worthy  of  you,  and  it  is  shaming  me. 
Monsieur,  you  know  I  speak  truly." 

"You  called  me  Pierre  a  little  while  ago,"  he 
said ;  "  will  you  not  now  ?  " 

His  voice  was  deliberate,  every  word  hanging  in  its 
utterance.  He  had  a  courteous  smile,  an  apparent 
abandon  of  manner,  but  there  was  devilry  behind  all, 
for  here,  for  the  first  time,  he  saw  this  woman,  fought 
for  and  lost,  in  his  presence  with  her  husband,  beg- 
ging that  husband's  life  of  him.  Why  had  she  called 
him  Pierre  ?  Was  it  because  she  knew  it  would  touch 
a  tender  corner  of  his  heart?  Should  that  be  so — 
well,  he  would  wait. 

"  Will  you  listen  to  me  ?  "  she  said,  in  a  low,  gentle 
voice. 

"  I  love  to  hear  you  speak,"  was  his  reply,  and  he 
looked  into  her  eyes  as  he  had  boldly  looked  years 
before,  but  his  gaze  made  hers  drop.  There  was 
revealed  to  her  all  that  was  in  his  mind. 

"  Then,  hear  me,"  she  said  slowly.  "  There  was  a 
motherless  young  girl.  She  had  as  fresh  and  cheer  • 
ful  a  heart  as  any  in  the  world.  She  had  not  many 
playmates,  but  there  was  one  young  lad  who  shared 
her  sports  and  pleasant  hours  who  was  her  good 


IN  WHICH  THE  SWORD  IS  SHEATHED.     273 


'nr- 


friend.  Years  passed ;  she  was  neariug  womanhood, 
the  young  man  was  still  her  friend,  but  in  his  mind 
there  had  come  something  deeper.  A  young  stranger 
also  came,  handsome,  brave,  and  brilliant.  He  was 
such  a  man  as  any  girl  could  like  and  any  man  admire. 
The  girl  liked  him,  and  she  admired  him.  The  two 
young  men  quarrelled;  they  fought;  and  the  girl 
parted  them.  Again  they  would  have  fought,  but 
this  time  the  girl's  life  was  in  danger.  The  stranger 
was  wounded  in  saving  her.  She  owed  him  a  debt — 
such  a  debt  as  only  a  woman  can  feel ;  because  a 
woman  loves  a  noble  deed  more  than  she  loves  her 
life — a  good  woman." 

She  paused,  and  for  an  instant  something  shook  in 
her  throat.  Her  husband  looked  at  her  with  a  deep 
wonder.  And  although  Iberville's  eyes  played  with 
his  glass  of  wine,  they  were  fascinated  by  her  face, 

< 

and  his  ear  was  strangely  charmed  by  her  voice. 

"  Will  you  go  on  ?  "  he  said. 

"The  three  parted.  The  girl  never  forgot  the 
stranger.  What  might  have  happened  if  he  had 
always  been  near  her,  who  can  tell — who  can  toll? 
Again  in  later  years  the  two  men  met,  the  stranger 
the  aggressor — without  due  cause." 


!!,T 


274 


THE  TRAIL  OF  Tl_^  SWORD. 


I  8,  . 


sl 


"  Pardon  me,  madame,  the  deepest  cause,"  said 
Iberville  meaningly. 

She  pretended  not  to  understand,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  The  girl,  believing  that  what  she  was  expected 
to  do  would  be  best  for  her,  promised  her  hand  in 
marriage.  At  this  time  the  stranger  came.  She  saw 
him  but  for  a  day,  for  an  hour,  then  he  passed  away. 
Time  went  on  again,  and  the  two  men  met  in  battle — 
men  now,  not  boys  ;  once  more  the  stranger  was  the 
victor.  She  married  the  defeated  man.  Perhaps  she 
did  not  love  him  as  much  as  he  loved  her,  but  she 
knew  that  the  other  love,  the  love  of  the  stranger, 
was  impossible — impossible.  She  came  to  care  for  her 
husband  more  and  more — she  came  to  love  him.  She 
might  have  loved  the  stranger — who  can  tell  ?  But 
a  woman's  heart  cannot  be  seized  as  a  ship  or  a  town. 
Believe  me,  monsieur,  I  speak  the  truth.  Years  again 
passed  :  her  husband's  life  was  in  the  stranger's  hand. 
Through  great  danger  she  travelled  to  plead  for 
her  husband's  life.  Monsieur,  she  does  not  plead  for 
an  unworthy  cause.  She  pleads  for  justice,  in  the 
name  of  all  honourable  warfare,  for  the  sake  of  all 
good  manhood.    Will — will  you  refuse  her  ?  " 


e,"  said 

id    con- 

jxpected 

hand  in 

She  saw 

3d  away. 

battle — 

was  the 

tiaps  she 

but  she 

tranger, 

for  her 

n.     She 

?    But 

a  town. 

s  again 

s  hand. 

ad    for 

ead  for 

in  the 

of  all 


IN  WHICH  THE  SWOHD  IS  SHEATHED.     275 

She  paused.  Gering's  eyes  were  glistening.  Her 
honesty,  fine  eloquence,  and  simple  sincerity,  showed 
her  to  him  in  a  new,  strong  light.  Upon  Iberville, 
the  greater  of  the  two,  it  had  a  greater  effect.  He  sat 
still  for  a  moment,  looking  nt  the  woman  with  the 
profound  gaze  of  one  moved  to  the  soul.  Then  he 
got  to  his  feet  slowly,  opened  the  door,  and  quietly 
calling  Perrot,  whispered  to  him.  Perrot  threw  up 
his  hands  in  surprise  and  hurried  away. 

Then  Iberville  shut  the  door,  and  came  back. 
Neither  man  had  made  any  show  of  caring  for  their 
wounds.  Still  silent,  Iberville  drew  forth  linen  and 
laid  it  upon  the  table.  Then  he  went  to  the  window, 
and  as  he  looked  through  the  parted  curtains  out 
upon  the  water — the  room  hung  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliff — he  bound  his  own  shoulder.  Gering  had  lost 
blood,  but  weak  as  he  was  he  carried  himself  well. 
For  full  half  an  hour  Iberville  stood  motionless  while 
the  wife  bound  her  husband's  wounds. 

At  length  the  door  opened  and  Perrot  entered. 
Iberville  did  not  hear  him  at  first,  and  Perrot  came 
over  to  him.    "  All  is  ready,  monsieur,"  he  said. 

Iberville,  nodding,  came  to  the  table  where  stood, 
the  husband  and  wife,  and  Perrot  left  the  room.    He 


'fil 


276 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 


i 


iii 


picked  up  a  sword  and  laid  it  beside  Gering,  and  then 
waved  his  hand  towards  the  door. 

"  You  are  free  to  go,  monsieur,"  he  said.  *'  You 
will  have  escort  to  your  country.  Go  now — pray,  go 
quickly." 

He  feared  he  might  suddenly  repent  of  his  action, 
and  going  to  the  door,  he  held  it  open  for  them  to 
pass.  Gering  picked  up  the  sword,  found  the  belt  and 
sheath,  and  stepped  to  the  doorway  with  his  wife. 
Here  he  paused  as  if  he  would  speak  to  Iberville : 
he  was  ready  now  for  final  peace.  But  Iberville's 
eyes  looked  resolutely  away,  and  Gering  sighed  and 
passed  into  the  hallway.  Now  the  wife  stood  beside 
Iberville.  She  looked  at  him  steadily,  but  at  first  he 
would  not  meet  her  eye.    Presently,  however,  he  did  so. 

"Good-bye,"  she  said  brokenly,  "I  shall  always 
remember — al  ways. " 

His  reply  was  bitter.  "  Good-bye,  madame :  i 
shall  forget." 

She  made  a  sad  little  gesture  and  passed  on,  but 
presently  turned,  as  if  she  could  not  bear  that  kind  of 
parting,  and  stretched  out  her  hands  to  him.  ' 

"  Monsieur — Pierre ! "  she  cried,  in  a  weak,  chok- 
ing voice. 


IN  WHICH  THE  SWORD  IS  SHEATHED.     277 

With  impulse  he  caught  both  her  hands  in  his  and 
kissed  them.  "  I  shall — remember,  Jessica, "  he  said, 
with  great  gentleness. 

Then  they  passed  from  the  hallway  and  he  was 
alone.  He  stood  looking  at  the  closed  door,  but 
after  a  moment  went  to  the  table,  sat  down,  and 
threw  his  head  forward  in  his  arms. 

An  hour  afterwards,  when  Count  Frontenac  en- 
tered upon  him,  he  was  still  in  the  same  position. 
Frontenac  touched  him  on  the  arm  and  he  rose.  The 
governor  did  not  speak,  but  caught  him  by  the 
shoulders  with  both  hands,  and  held  him  so  for  a 
moment,  looking  kindly  at  him.  Iberville  picked  up 
his  sword  from  the  table  and  said  calmly — 

"  Once,  sir,  you  made  it  a  choice  between  the 
woman  and  the  sword." 

Then  he  raised  the  sword  solemnly  and  pressed  his 
lips  against  the  hilt-cross. 


THE    END. 


APPLETONS*   TOWN   AND  COUNTRY   LIBRARY. 


PUBLISHED  SEMIMONTHLY. 


L 


1.  The  Sti'd  Hummer.    By  Lot'is  Tlbach. 
'Z.  Ere.    A  Novel.    By  S.  BAaiNCi-CJoiLD. 

3.  For  Fifteen  Yearn.    A  Hoqiiul  to  Tlu'  Sti-el  Haininor.    By  Louw  Ulbacu. 

4.  A  Counsel  of  Ptr/ectioii.    A  Novel.     By  Litcah  Malkt. 

5.  The  Ihemshr.    A  Komance.    By  Hall  Caink. 

6.  A  Virginia  Inheritawe.    By  Ei)Mi:ni>  Pknim.kton-. 

7.  Ninette:  An  Idyll  of  Troveiice.    By  (lie  author  of  Vera. 

8.  "  The Kight  lIonoK ruble.'"   By  Juwtim  M(( "authy  and  M rn.  rAMPBKM,-PnAED. 

9.  The  Silence  of  Dean  MuitlanU.    By  Maxwell  (;«ay. 

10.  Mrs.  Lorime'r:  A  Study  in  Black  and  White.    By  Lucas  Malet. 

11.  The  Elect  Lady.    By  (iKOiuiE  AlAt  Donald. 

Vi.  T'le  Mystery  of  thi'"-(h-ean  Star.""    By  W.  Claiik  But^rtELL. 

13.  AristoiTdcy.    A  Novel. 

14.  A  Ilecoiling  Veiujeunc-.    By  Fuank  Bauuett.    With  Illustrations. 

15.  The  Secret  of  Font uini-lu-Vroi J' .    By  Maiuiauet  Field. 
10.  The  Master  of  liatdkeUij.    By  Hawley  Smaut. 

17.  Donovan:  A"  Modern  iJnplishnia'i.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

18.  This  Mortal  Coil.    By  (jrant  Allen. 

19.  A  Fair  Emigrant.    By  Rosa  Mulholl/  no. 
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21.  Raleigh  Westgate :  or,  Epimeniue;' in  Maine.    By  Helen  Kendrick  Johnson. 
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24.  We  Two.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

25.  A  Dreamer  of  Ih'eams.    By  the  autlior  of  Thoth. 

2(J.  The  Ladies^  Gallery.    By  Justin  McCarthy  and  Mrs.  Campbell-Prabo. 

27.  The  Reproach  of  Anmsley.    By  Maxwell  Gray. 

28.  Near  to  Ifapjnness. 

%.  In  <he  Wire- Grass.    By  Louis  Pendleton. 

■iO.  Lace.    A  Berlin  Romance.    By  Paul  Lindac. 

3!.  Anurican  Coin.    A  Novel.    By  the  author  of  Aristocracy. 

32.  Won  by  Waiting.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

33.  The  Story  '^f  Helen  Davenant.    By  Violet  Fane. 

34.  The  Lighi  of  Her  Co^intenance.    By  H.  II.  Boyesen. 

35.  Mistress  Beatrice  Cope.    By  M.  E.  Le  Clerc. 

36.  Tfie  Knight-Errant.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

37.  In  the  Golden  Days.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

38.  Girnldi ;  or,  The  Curse  of  Love.    By  Tvoss  George  Dek  .;g. 

39.  A  Hardif  Norseman.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

40.  The  Romance  of  Jenny  Harlowe.,  and  Sketches  of  Maritime  Life.     By  W. 

Clark  Russell. 

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42.  The  Awakening  of  Mary  Fenh':k.    By  Beatricf  Whitby. 

43.  Count£ss  Loreley.    Translated  froui  the  German  v,:  Rudolf  Menoer. 

44.  Blind  Love.    By  VVilkie  Collins. 

45.  The  Dean's  Daughter.    By  Sophie  F.  F.  Veitch. 

46.  Countess  Irene.    A  Romance  of  Austrian  Llf -^    By  J.  Fooerty. 

47.  Robert  Broivnlng's  Principal  Shorter  Poems. 

48.  Frozen  Hearts.    By  G.  Webb  Appleton. 

49.  Djambek  the  Georgian.    By  A.  G.  von  Suttner. 

50.  The  Craze  of  Christian  Enqelkart.    By  Henrt  Faulkner  Darnell. 

51.  ImI.    By  William  A.  Hammond,  M.  D. 

52.  Aline     A  Novel.    By  Henry  Gr6ville. 

53.  Joost  Avelingh.    A  Dutch  Story.    By  Maarten  Maartenh. 

54.  Katy  of  Gatoctin.    By  Georoe  Alfred  Townsend. 

55.  ThrocknurrTon.    A  Novel.    By  Molly  Elliot  ^^eawell. 

56.  Expatriation.    By  the  author  of  Aristocracy. 

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APPLETON8   TOWN  AND  ('(JLNTKY  LIBHAUY.    {('on finned.) 


58. 
f)«. 
«). 
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m. 

0». 
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7a. 

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110. 
IIOJ 
111. 
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114. 
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117. 
118. 
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120. 


Ihnitri.    A  Honiancc  of  Old  Kiisf-iu.    Fiy  F.  W.  Bain,  M.  A. 
Part  of  flte-  J^'o/xtiu.    By  Bkatiiick  Wiiituy. 
Jilmnarck  in  I'/irnfe  IAj>.    By  a  Fcllow-Studont. 
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The,  VanadianH  of  old.    A  liiHturical  Koniuncc.    By  Piiimi'I'k  (iA^«l>6. 
A  Squire  of  Low  Ihgrte.    By  Lii.y  A.  Long. 
A  Fluttered  Dovecote.    By  (»Eo»«iE  Manvii.i.e  Fenn. 
The  Nagentx  of  ('(irriconna.    An  Iriwli  Story.    By  Tiohe  lloiM\iNt<. 
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Doiia  Luz.    By  Juan  Vai.eha.    Tranwlatcd  t)y  Mr».  Mauy  J.  Serrano. 
I'i'pitu  Xiinenez.    By  Juan  Vai.era.    TraiiHlalud  by  Mrn.  Marv  J.  Serrano 
The  J'litnen  and  their  Xeighborn.    By  Kiciiaru  Malcolm  Johnston. 
The  Iron  U'tiiu.    By  IIknhy  F.  Keenan. 
StoiieH  of  Old  New  Spain.    By  Thomas  A.  Janvier. 
The  Matd  of  ]i''t/wr.    By  lion.  Lkwin  Winopield. 
Jn  the  Heart  ofihe  Storm.    By  Maxwell  Gray. 
VonseguenceJi!   By  Euerton  C'ahtle. 
The  Three  Mintt  Kinns.    By  Ada  Cambridme. 
A  Matter  of  Skill,    fiv  Beatrice  Whitby. 
Maid  Marian,  and  othar  Stotieti.    By  Molly  Elliot  Sbawbli.. 
One  Woman''s  Way.    By  Edmund  Pendleton. 
A  Mirc\fiil  iJirorce.    By  F.  W.  Maude. 
Stephen  FWicotVa  Daughter.    By  Mrs.  J.  II.  Needell. 
One  Reason  Why.    By  Beatbicb  Whitby. 
The  Tragedy  of  Ida  Noble.    By  W.  Clark  Rusxell. 
The  Johnstown  Stage,  and  other  Stories.    By  Uobert  II.  Fletcher. 
A  Widower  Indeed.    By  Khoda  Brouohton  and  Elizabeth  Bir*LAND. 
The  Flight  of  Vie  Shadow.    By  Gboroe  MacDonald. 
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Not  All  in  Vain.    By  Ada  Cambridoe. 
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Mu  Guardian.    By  Ada  Cambridge. 
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Amethyst :  The  Story  of  a  Beauty.    By  Christabel  R.  ('oleridcj-e. 
Don  Braulio.    By  Juan  Valera.    Translated  by  Clara  Bell. 
The  Chronicles  qf  Mr.  Bill  Williams.    By  Richard  Malcolsi  Johnston. 
A  Queen  qf  Curds  and  Cream^.    By  Dorothea  Gerard. 
"  La  Bella  "  and  Others.    By  Egerton  Castle. 
•'  December  Roues.''''    By  Mrs.  Campbell-Praed. 
Jean  de  Kerdren,    By  Jeanne  Schultz. 
Etelka's  Vow     By  Dorothea  Gerard. 
Cross  Currents.    By  Mary  A.  Dickens. 
His  Lifers  Magnet.    By  Theodora  Elmslie. 
Passing  the  Love  of  Women.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needbll. 
In  Old  St.  Stephe.A'g.     Ey  Jeanie  Drake. 

The  Berkeleys  and  their  Neighbors.    By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell. 
Mono  Maclean,  Medical  Student.    By  Graham  Travers. 
Mrs.  Bligh.    By  Rhoda  Brouohton. 
A  Stumble  on  the  Threshold.    By  James  Pay'n. 
Hanging  Moss.    By  Paul  Lindau. 
A  Comedy  of  Elopement.    By  Christian  Reid. 
In  the  Suntime  of  her  Youth.    By  Beatrice  Whitb-v  . 
Stories  in  Black  and  White.    By  Thomas  Hardy  and  Others. 
,  An  Englishman  in  Paris.    Notes  and  Recollections. 
Commander  Mendoza.    By  Juan  Valera. 
Dr.  PauWs  Theory.    By  Mrs.  A.  M.  Diehl. 
Children  of  Destiny.    By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell. 
A  Little  Minv.    By  Ada  Oambridoe. 
CapVn  Davy'' 8  Honeymoon.    By  Hall  Cainb. 
The  Voice  of  a  Flower.    By  E.  Gerard. 
Singularly  Deluded.    By  Sarah  Grand. 
Suspected.    By  Lox'isa  Stratenus. 
Lucia,  Hugh,  and  Another.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needbll. 
The  Tutor''s  Secret.    By  Victor  Cuerbuliez. 


finnetf.) 


AI'PLETONS'   TOWN  AND  COUNTRY    \mH\R\. -(f'onnnue'l.) 


CtA»i'k. 


CIN^<. 


■<KKIlANO. 
V  .J.  Skhkano 

lN!«TON. 


'CHBR. 
Bl^LAND. 


Johnston. 


PLL. 


121. 
122. 
123. 
124. 
125. 
12(1. 
127. 
128. 
129. 
ISO. 
131. 
182. 

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134. 
185. 
13(!. 
187. 
1:38. 
139. 
140. 
141. 
142. 
14;l 
144. 
145. 
146. 
147. 
148. 
149. 
1.50. 
151. 
152. 


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Iileola.    By  Hauaii  (iitANi>. 

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II 


V 


D.   APPLEtON  fi  CO.'S- PUBLICATIONS. 


NOVELS  BY  MAARTEN  MAARTErJs.  .      . 

rn//E  GREATER  GLORY.     A  Story  of  Hi^h  Life. 

<*        By   Maarten  Maartens,    author  of  "God's   Fool,"   "Joost 

Avelingh,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Until  th«  Appletons  discovered  the  merits  of  Maarten  Maartens,  the  foremost  of 
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novelists.     His  'God's  Fool'  and  '  loost  Avelinuli '  made  for  him  an  American  reputa- 
tion.    To  our  mind  this  just  published  work  of  his  is  his  liest.  .   .  .  He  is  a  master  ol 
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impressive  stories  of  the  period.  ...  It  belongs  to  the  smaTl  class  of  novels  which 
one  can  not  Hfford  to  neglect." — San  Frarutsco  Chrotiicle. 

"  Maarten  Maartens  stands  head  and  shoulders  above  the  average  novcli  X  of  the 
day  in  intellectual  subtlety  and  imaginative  power." — Boston  Beacon, 

/^OD'S  FOOL.     By  Maarten    Maartens.      i2mo. 
>-^     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Throughout  there  is  an  epigrammatic  force  which  would  make  pa'atable  a  less 
interesting  stor}'  of  human  lives  or  one  less  deltiy  \.o\il." —Loita'on  Saturday  Review. 

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"A  remarkdble  work." — New  Vork  Times. 

"Maarten  Maartens  has  secured  a  firm  footing  in  the  eddies  of  current  literature. 
.  .  .  Pathos  deepens  into  tragedy  in  the  thrilling  story  of'CJod's  Voo\."'— Philadel- 
phia Ledger. 

"  Its  preface  alone  stamps  the  author  as  one  of  the  leading  English  novelists  of 
to-day." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"The  story  is  wonderfully  brilliant.  .  .  .  The  interest  never  lags;  the  style  is 
realistic  and  intense;  and  there  is  a  constantly  underlying  current  of  subtle  humor. 
...  It  is,  in  short,  a  book  which  no  student  of  modern  literature  should  fail  to  read." 
— Boston  Times. 

"  A  story  of  remarkable  interest  and  point." — Neru  Vork  Observer. 


7 


VOST  AVELINGH.      By  Maarten    Maartens. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"So  unmistakably  good  as  to  induce  the  ho:>e  that  an  acquaintance  with  the  Dutch 
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Post. 

"  In  scarcely  any  of  the  sensational  novels  of  the  day  will  the  reader  find  more 
nature  or  more  human  nature."—  London  Standa-»-d. 

"A  novel  ofa  very  high  type.  At  once  strongly  realistic  an  oowerfuUy  id»al- 
istic." — London  Literary  World. 

"  Full  of  local  color  and  rich  in  quaint  phraseology  and  suggestion." — London 
Telegraph. 

"  Maarten  Maartens  is  a  capital  story-teller."— /'«//  Mall  Gazette. 

"Our  English  writers  of  fiction  will  have  to  look  to  their  laurels  "—.5/V;///«jf/«aw 
Daily  Post. 

New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO..  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


V 


s. 


lif^h  Life. 
•1,"   "Joost 


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find  more 

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' — London 

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